Pestilence
by White Mage Koorii
Summary: Horsemen I; Sometimes, no matter what choice you make, it could be the wrong one. Despite this, Kaito and Conan choose the pursuit of justice even in the face of questions on morality, friendship, and family.
1. Chapter 1

**Fic Pairings:** Mostly Genfic. Light Kaito/Aoko, Shinichi/Ran, Saguru/Aoko, and Heiji/Kazuha

**Final/Series Pairings: **Saguru/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Shinichi (more may appear)

**Chapter Warnings:** mentions of explosions.

**A/N:** Alright, here it is folks: As per my tradition I am posting something on my Birthday. So, today I am 21, and here is my post.

Since everyone's been highly interested in this fic, I am posting the first chapter of Pestilence, the first fic in my "Horsemen" series. Updates on this fic are likely to be slow, but here's how they'll work:

At the moment I have 6 chapters done, when I finish chapter 7, I will post chapter 2, and so on and so forth. Until then, enjoy!

-Koorii

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**Chapter 01**

* * *

Conan sat at the low kotatsu, eyes staring blankly at the TV screen which displayed some random serial drama he wasn't paying more than half attention to. His fingers sorted, absently, through the bag of chips sitting before him; a couple had spilled out on the table top itself. His fingers caught on one, and he pulled it free in a motion that sent a couple more to join their escaping brethren. Breaking off a small portion with his front teeth, Conan left the chip dangling listlessly between his lips.

Ran always insisted on buying these sorts of things, said that little kids enjoyed snacks like this. Conan wondered, sometimes, if he'd been that way when he really was this age. He couldn't really recall. All the same, it had been easy, and within reach, and that suited Conan just fine at the moment. Right now he didn't want to think, didn't want to care.

Soft and brittle, wintery late afternoon sunlight spilled into the room from a crack in the curtains. The tall, thin shaft of dim white light turned the table almost reflective. Conan could see dust motes spinning in an absent dance above the polished surface. The TV changed, displaying loud commercials that offered their products in a million outrageous ways, but the apartment itself was quiet. For that, alone, Conan was glad.

The solitude suited the rather listless mood he was in at the moment perfectly. Kogoro had gone out on a case that, for once, held no interest to Conan; something about tailing an employee of a bank who was suspected of small time embezzlement. Ran had gone out as well, with Sonoko, after repeatedly asking Conan if he was sure he didn't want to come and if he'd be fine home alone.

Normally he jumped on the chance to go anywhere with her, but today he just didn't feel like it. Today... With another slight crunch he bit off a bit more of the chip, and stared lazily at the TV. He wasn't really seeing it at all, rather, he was staring into the middle distance.

It had been nearly two years now. He'd be turning nine soon, for the second time, and Haibara didn't seem any closer to the cure. That, in all its complicated simplicity, was the root of his bad mood. She'd been so...he couldn't say excited, as the term didn't really suit her in any form, but Haibara had thought she was on to something. It had turned out to be a fluke reaction.

One step forward, two steps back. They were, more or less, in the same place they'd been for the last year and a half or so.

The cure wasn't the only place where they had come up against a wall. The Black Organization was an unstoppable force that crawled, and oozed, and sank its claws into everything. Conan didn't know if he was just becoming paranoid, or if the little signs he saw in the world around him were _real_. He didn't dare bring it up with Ai. Lately, any relation back to them had her on edge and snappy for weeks. He wasn't sure if it was stress over her continued failures, or if she was getting as jumpy as he was.

What he really needed, Conan knew, was a distraction. At that moment, as if in answer to his mental cue, his cellphone began to buzz across the table. Snagging it, he flipped it open and set it to his ear. Using his shoulder to keep it there, Conan reached for the remote.

_"Yo, Kudou!"_

Giving a sarcastic mental laugh, Conan pulled the rest of his chip into his mouth and crunched it loudly in an effort to spread his general aggravation around in some manner. He doubted that Hattori would pick up on that fact; he'd learned a long time ago that it was a universal rule: Hattori Heiji and subtle cues that had to do with a person's emotional status were non-mixy things.

_"Kudou?_" Hattori's vaguely confused sounding tone asked.

Conan sighed heavily. "Yeah? What do you want, Hattori?"

_"I'm wounded!"_ Hattori replied. It was said so cheerfully, though, that Conan couldn't help but think a hearty 'yeah right.' _"I'm y'best friend, y'oughta be happier t'hear from me!"_

He could just imagine the idiot, beaming, as he said those words. How Hattori could be so obnoxiously happy sometimes... "Was there a reason you called, or is Kazuha trying to get you to do something and you want an out?"

_"What's that supposed t'mean?_" Hattori grumped, and Conan mentally gave himself a point for spreading the ill cheer, before immediately feeling a bit bad for it. He really shouldn't be taking his sour mood out on Hattori; Hattori who'd been nothing but a reliable friend, one who'd stood by him through this entire mess.

"Nothing. So, what's up?"

As fast as it had come, Hattori's mood lifted again. Conan could _hear_ the grin in his voice, and it made him wonder why he'd changed his mind about baiting the idiot. _"So y'haven't heard then?"_

"Heard what? Hattori."

_"Geez, don't get y'self all in a twist. I just figured y'would've since it's all over the news. Even here in Osaka._"

"Get to the point already, Hattori," Conan growled. Really, what was he on about?

_"Check out the news. I'm sure it's on there too."_

Rolling his eyes, and biting back a sigh at Hattori's unequivocal ability to frustrate him with the smallest things yet still remain one of his closest friends, Conan absently jabbed the buttons to switch the channel to one he knew would be airing news, and, immediately, found his attention riveted on the screen.

"–as you can see, behind me the preparations for tonight's Kaitou Kid heist are well underway." The camera panned up, revealing one of the large sky scrapers in Beika. It was a monolith of steel, glass, and cement that caught the slowly dying sunlight and sent it flying back into the air like the shards of a broken jewel. The reporter's voice continued, "The men of the Task Force have come over from Ekoda ward with Nakamori-keibu, self proclaimed expert on the thief, in the lead." Faintly overlaying this part, Conan could hear a bellow that sounded like 'It's the truth!' "Kid is believed to be targeting The Lucky Seven. The Lucky Seven are a set of seven large star sapphires that belong to the well known businessman Wakahisa Hajime-san, who happens to be standing next to me right now! Now, tell me Wa–"

The woman's question was aborted as Nakamori stormed into the frame, snatched the microphone from her hand and faced the camera. Pointing at it, he hollered, "I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE REALLY AFTER KID! YOU AREN'T FOOLING ME!" Shoving his face as close to the camera as he could, Nakamori snarled, "And this time you're not going to escape!"

_"So y'really didn't know?_" Hattori's amused voice sounded in his ear, and drew Conan's attention away from the ranting man on the television screen. The poor reporter was trying, timidly, to get her microphone back, and not having any success at all. The owner of the jewels, a man in his mid to late forties, stood back looking amused and baffled.

"No, I hadn't."

_"Y'gonna go then?"_

It didn't sound like Hattori cared either way on the surface, but he could hear a faint thread of worry beneath the other detective's tone. Conan couldn't understand why, it was just a Kid heist after all. He was about to tell Hattori as much, and that he wasn't sure yet, when he realized he was already sweeping the loose chips back into their bag. It seemed he'd already decided to go after all.

"Yeah," Conan replied indifferently. "Why?"Standing up he rolled up the bag with a crinkle of plastic before dropping them, mostly untouched, into the nearby trashcan.

_"I dunno, Kudou. I've just got a bad feelin' about it, is all. I look at the broadcast and can't help but think somethin's gonna happen."_

Conan snorted at how ludicrous that sounded even as he set the phone down to pull his jacket on. Picking it up, he balanced it between his ear and shoulder again. It didn't seem like Hattori had noticed his inattention or, if he had, didn't mind. Reaching into his pockets, Conan found his voice modifier and Detective badge were already in there along with some of his allowance. To Hattori, he said, "Who knows? Maybe what you're feeling is the general populaces devastation when Kid's finally caught."

Hattori laughed at that, and Conan had to admit it was a bit of a laughable thought, before falling serious again. _"Y'never know. Just be careful okay, Kudou?"_

Giving the wall a hard frown, Conan hefted his skateboard against one hip. Hattori actually sounded really and truly worried about this for some reason, and, though Conan couldn't fathom his reasons, he'd take it into account. They'd both experienced enough dangerous happenings to warrant caution even without Hattori 'feeling something weird'. As it was, they also both knew to take into account their instincts as detectives.

"It's just a Kid heist," he said, but he knew that they both understood the unspoken message. '_But, I'll keep both eyes open.'_

They both knew that every case he solved, every day he lived, could very well be the one that brought hell down around them, could be Conan's last. Conan had grown used to walking with death in more ways than one; they were old companions and, as everyone knows, hell often follows death.

Snapping his phone closed before Hattori could try to talk him out of it or something equally inane, Conan pocketed the device and trotted over to turn the TV off. He paused, for a moment, to check the location again. The TV channel was airing it in scrolling script across the bottom of the screen as well as the fact that they'd be shooting the entire event live as if it were some kind of spectacular show. Conan supposed that, perhaps, it was.

The reporter was looking harried now, but at least she had gotten her microphone back from the Inspector, who was nowhere in sight now. Both the reporter and Wakahisa were sporting signs of prior cheek pinching. Conan turned the TV off as the two on screen began to discuss the total cost of the jewels. To him, that was unimportant; all that mattered, in the end, was the thief going after them.

Conan, for one, was never sure what to think of him. Sitting down he pulled on his shoes, tightening the laces as his mind raced over the information he knew, over their past encounters. Kid remained a baffling mystery that Conan almost ached to solve. He hated it, not knowing an answer to a puzzle, and the phantom thief was one of the hardest ones he'd ever bent his mind to.

Standing, Conan grabbed his skateboard once again and darted out the door, making sure it was locked behind him before trotting down the stairs. If he had his timing right he ought to be able to make it to the bus stop in time. The heist was far enough away that he'd rather go via public transport. A cold front had parked itself right over the Tokyo area and seemed in no hurry to leave. As a result the weather was colder than usual, and the air had a biting chill to it that allowed him to see his breath puffing, a small white vaporous cloud, with every exhale.

Jogging down the street the boy wound around the few passers by, his focus intent on where he was going as well as the thoughts churning through his mind. Skidding to a halt at the bus stop, Conan waited for his breathing to regulate again. The cold air made it harder to breath because it stung his lungs, and the inside of his throat and nose. He winced slightly as he realized he probably should have left a note for Ran. With any luck she'd call the professor first, and Agasa would automatically cover for him.

Tugging his jacket more tightly around him Conan waited in silence, hands shoved deep into his pockets. It really was fortunate timing. Just when he'd needed a distraction, the perfect one provided itself. It seemed almost too serendipitous, and that alone was enough to make Conan wary. What did the world have in store for him now? Another life changing event, perhaps? His lips twisted into a wry half smile at the thought. Who was he kidding? He wasn't so vain anymore, to think the world was that interested in him.

Sighing softly, the air steaming with his breath, Conan pondered this fact. Once upon a time Kudou Shinichi had been the kind of person secure in his place on the stage of the world: he was the leading actor, and all eyes were on him. How roughly he'd been disabused of that notion! Kudou Shinichi had gone from the master of the stage to the master behind the curtain, the puppeteer who hid behind a pseudonym.

A couple of middle school age boys ran by, exchanging good-natured shouts about what they were going to do when they got to one of their homes. Ambiguous, harried, adults strode by with quick staccato steps that sounded sharply against the pavement. The rush and growl of passing traffic seemed muted by the chilly aura that gripped the city in brittle fingers, and the dying afternoon seemed lonely even in such a busy metropolis. It was truly a day where everyone preferred to stay inside, and only those with a purpose, or an amount of insanity, ventured out.

With hiss, and the grumble of its motor, the bus pulled to a stop and Conan clambered up the steps, grinning boyishly at the driver as he stopped to pay his fare.

For a moment he paused, gaze sweeping the seats in search of an empty one. The bus was still relatively populated despite the fact that the world seemed intent on holing itself up, and usual preferences to use the trains. Making his way silently to an empty seat, he hopped into it, and set his skateboard to rest over his thighs.

As the vehicle began to roll, the feeling of eyes on him had Conan lifting his head. A little boy, no more than four, was peering at him, curiously, out of large dark eyes. Conan looked back down, contemplating his hands through the fog gathering on the lenses of his glasses. Frowning slightly, he pulled them off and cleaned the fake lenses with a few, quick, business-like strokes of his sleeve before replacing them. Warmth began to seep back into his bones, and Conan sat back, fingers gripping the far edge of the skateboard to keep it in place.

People came and went as stops passed by, but mostly they came, and soon the bus was full of muted, but excited chatter. Conan let his mind drift absently where it would, and paid no mind to the growing atmosphere around him. As always he found himself thinking about tomorrow, because tomorrow was an ever elusive promise of maybe. Maybe he'd hit on a lead, maybe something advantageous would happen. Just, maybe...

Ayumi had been going on all day about how she was _sure_ that it would be a perfect day tomorrow despite the unusual cold snap that had settled over the city, and they'd all made plans to meet up in the park tomorrow because of it. She'd beamed brilliantly when even he and Ai had given in without to much of a fight. Conan wasn't sure if he should hope everything went well so he didn't have to deal with the kids' downcast faces, or hope it wouldn't so that he wouldn't have to deal with their excitement. Maybe if his luck continued a _real_ case would appear on the Sleeping Kogoro's doorstep.

There probably was no escaping it, and he admitted he'd probably feel bad if he tried to make an excuse. They weren't bad, really, and with his and Ai's influence they were a lot more mature than the rest of their class. A lot of the time, Conan felt bad for that. Guilt was an emotion he'd become used to over the past couple of years.

The sound of his skateboard's wheel spinning drew him from his dreary thoughts and Conan flicked his eyes up to find that the little boy had slipped passed his mother, and made his way over. The child gripped the wheel to keep his balance as the bus maneuvered around a corner. Then, as he regained his balance, he spun the wheel again and looked solemnly up at Conan. "You look sad."

"Really? That's strange because I don't feel sad."

The boy frowned at him, eyes fierce in his slightly chubby face. "You shouldn't lie. Mama says it's bad."

Conan's grip tightened slightly on his skateboard, and he found himself fighting to not look away from that oddly condemning stare. Why was it that children always seemed to have this strange way of making sense, or _knowing_ once you stopped disregarding them? Well, at least, some of them did. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was how Takagi, Satou, and the various other adults felt when he said something overly mature. Perhaps not the same, but still profound, maybe more so for it's childish delivery.

"Yeah," Conan agreed, and managed to keep the ragged tiredness that suddenly beat down on him out of his voice with practiced ease. "She's right, you know, and..." Looking up he wasn't surprised to find the woman looking over them, worried, but not sure if she ought to get up to retrieve her son at the moment. "And, she's looking for you."

Turning, the little boy beamed at his mother and waved, she smiled and lifted her hand to return the gesture. He turned back to Conan then and frowned again, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Where's your mom?"

"I'm going to meet her." Lying to make other people happy got easier every time he did it, but it didn't make the sickly clenching of his stomach lessen. He still couldn't find it in himself to tell the child anything nearer to the truth. But, really, what was the truth? Edogawa Conan didn't have a real mother, and his real mother was an ocean away.

The child nodded, grinning at him. "Make sure she gives you a hug so you won't be sad anymore!"

As the boy turned to head back to his mother, Conan caught the sound of his stop being announced. Several people hit the alerts that they wanted off, and the bus slowed to a stop. The little boy nearly lost his balance, and Conan reached out, automatically, to steady him with a hand on his shoulder.

Sliding the rest of the way off his seat, Conan juggled his skateboard around, and walked the boy back to his mother. The woman smiled kindly at him in thanks as she scooped her son up. Smiling crookedly, Conan waved then trotted to join the queue of disembarking passengers. Almost all of them were getting off here, which was as close to the heist sight as the bus was likely to get at this point. The streets were clogged with traffic of both the vehicular and pedestrian variety.

When he stepped out onto the sidewalk, Conan took note of a scattering of police in the area directing traffic. They didn't seem to be having much luck with those traveling on foot though. The crowds were thickening with each passing moment. Darkness had fallen during the trip over, and shadows had gathered at the corners of the buildings. The streetlamps and the glow of advertisements in brilliant color lit the street like runway guides. Though he could not see it, he knew the crowd was thick somewhere ahead of him, gathered at the base of the skyscraper just outside the police blockade.

Despite the weather the excitement was palpable. A group of teenage girls trotted passed him, laughing excitedly and carrying home made signs under their arms, faces rosy with cold and the atmosphere. Almost in spite of himself Conan could feel the rate of his own heartbeat increasing, and he realized he was smirking. It wasn't any smirk: it was that smirk he got when he faced Kid again and again, a knowing smirk, a challenging smirk. The thrill was already in his veins and there was no stopping it now.

Conan set his skateboard on the sidewalk and stepped onto it as the bus grumbled to life and eased back into the flow of traffic. Sliding one foot back he pressed the switch, and the small turbine came to life with a soft whirring whine. He'd have enough power, at least, to get there, and that was really all he needed. The force of the building power whirled around him, lifting his hair and causing a few passers by to skip out of the way in surprise. He ignored their stares as it kicked into gear and sent him racing down the sidewalk.

Leaning to one side, Conan swerved neatly around the crowd, the wind whipping at his cheeks in nippy bites. It was cold, and made his eyes water behind his glasses, but he was intent. Around him, the tall buildings passed unnoticed and shadowed but for the few lights in the offices that remained lit. Ahead of him, growing ever closer, the focus of the nights excitement glowed like a bright island in the darkened city from the flood lights below.

They played to Kid as much as the magician thief played to them and the crowd. They created his stage, gave him his audience, invited him in like Stoker's monster and let him have his fun without rebuke, for he was too cunning to be caught, his hideaway too well hidden to be ferreted out.

Coasting around a tight knot of teenagers, Conan ignored their shrieks of surprise at his passing. He couldn't help but wonder if this was why Sonoko had dragged Ran out today. Were they here even now? Were the two somewhere in the crowd, waiting for the madness to begin? He would have to be careful, just in case. Ran would probably stop him, scold him, and he didn't want that now. All he wanted was his chance to face off against one of the most twisted, mad, _brilliant_ minds he knew of.

A harmless game with no stakes.

Not for the first time, Conan wondered what he'd do if he ever managed to catch Kid and, again, not for the first time, he didn't have an answer to that. Surely the proper answer was that he'd turn him over, put him in jail, but was that the truth? Would he do it if given the chance? Conan had no idea if he would, and, realized, he probably wouldn't until faced with the choice. There were far too many unanswered questions where the thief was concerned, and when he faced him Conan always felt torn between wanting to find the answers to those questions, and wanting to put Kid behind bars.

With heavy thumps, the rotors of a helicopter broke the air like thunder as one of them passed by overhead, low within the artificial canyon of the skyscrapers. A search light roved restlessly over the gathering crowd below. The crowd itself was getting thicker now, so Conan pulled his foot off the button and allowed the skateboard to slow to a stop. Stepping off, he kicked it into his waiting arms without missing a step, and darted off between peoples legs. Those who noticed him only paid enough attention to see what had jostled them before going back to watching the skyscraper.

All around him people chanted and cheered, lifting homemade signs high into the air as they screamed the thief's name. The cold didn't seem to reach here, kept at bay by the close press of human bodies and the sheer thrill in the air. Conan had to hand it to Kid, Conan didn't know many people who could get such a reaction out of a crowd so easily. He might not even be here yet, hadn't even begun the show... They might not even _see_ the show, just a white figure jumping from the rooftop, and still they came; just for a single glimpse.

Conan would bet anything that Kid was already inside the building.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of the blockade through people's legs, and, with a few more pushes and the occasional annoyed shout, he ducked beneath the wooden police barrier in his way. Not that he had to duck far, but that was something else altogether.

"Hey, kid!" One of the men, dressed in the usual Kaitou Kid Task force manner, shouted. Conan deviated his course, and trotted over to him, grinning. Luckily, it was one of the ones he actually recognized from a few of the other heists he'd attended.

"Kanada-san!" Conan grinned up at him. "Stuck on crowd control again?"

Kanada blinked down at him, then smiled, "Oh, Edogawa-kun... You're here again? Ha, I shouldn't be surprised." The man sighed and scratched the back of his helmet absently. "Ah, that? Well, truly I'd rather be out here. Dealing with the crowd is easier than dealing with Kid."

"Ha ha... I guess you're right."

"Not for you though," Kanada pointed out. "You've always been able to keep up with him pretty well. What's your secret?"

Conan shifted, nerves jangling slightly, and coughed nervously. Luckily he probably just came across as a sheepish boy to the man. "I just get lucky is all, and I try hard! He probably just takes it easy on me 'cause I'm a kid."

Kanada laughed, and neither of them spoke what they both knew: That Kid challenged Conan several times harder than the rest of the force. It was just something that _was_, something that no one paid attention to. It was a fact that was like one of Kid's tricks, hidden as long as no one paid it any mind, and no one paid it mind because they didn't want to uncover it. Some things were best left a mystery.

"Are you going to try your luck again tonight, then?"

"I was hoping to, after I saw it on TV. Ah! Kanada-san?" Conan waved his hand directing the man to crouch down closer so he could ask his question more confidentially. The man did so obligingly. "I saw Nakamori-keibu on TV, and he said that he knew what Kid was doing. It's strange, isn't it? I mean we all know what Kid's doing! He's here to steal the jewels right?"

"Ah, well, that is..." Kanada glanced around then leaned in a bit closer once he was sure no one was paying them any attention. "The Keibu doesn't think Kid's after the Lucky Seven at all. There's an eighth jewel in there, called The Blue Elpis, that he thinks he's after."

Blinking wide eyes at him, Conan asked, "Is that jewel worth more?"

Kanada laughed and shook his head. "Quite the opposite apparently. The Elpis is just a regular sapphire while the Lucky Seven are all very rare colored star sapphires. Apparently it was given to Wakahisa-san, free, when he bought the last for his set several years ago. The man who was selling them desperately wanted to get rid of the Elpis, said it was cursed."

"Oooh. A curse? Really?"

Giving a nervous chuckle, Kanada nodded. "That's what I heard anyway." He paused, and shot a glance up at the building. "I should get back to work. Why don't you head on in? The jewels are kept on the eighteenth floor, they ought to all be there."

"Okay! Thank you, Kanada-san!" Conan turned away, then paused and gave a man a thoughtful stare. "Could you watch this for me until after the heist?" He asked, holding up the skateboard. It wasn't likely he'd need it until then, and, even then, he would probably just call the professor and see if he'd come and get him.

Kanada grinned and took the skateboard, setting it to lean against the leg of the barrier in front of him. "No worries. I'll keep an eye on it for you."

"Thanks!" Waving, Conan trotted off toward the building.

–

The shadows wrapped themselves tightly, masterfully, around the thief as he stood perfectly still. In one white gloved hand he held a small device that showed him a split screen view of eight different rooms, in the other he clutched a remote. The room Kid stood in was completely dark, no light entered, and only the faint, eerie, glow from the device in his hand lit up the lines of his chin, and the twist of his lips. Mischief danced at the corners of his mouth in a smile that would have otherwise been pleasant, but just seemed mocking.

The Task Force bustled around like a crazed group of ants who's ant hill had been set on its head, or perhaps a hornet's nest was more appropriate. After all, these busy little workers would surely imprison him in a waxy little cage given half the chance!

Movement in the lower screen dedicated to the main gallery where Nakamori was stubbornly standing alongside the display case holding the Elpis caught Kid's attention. The room was nearly empty of other people, with only two guards at each door way, the Keibu, Wakahisa, and the reporter with her camera man, but had suddenly gained another, far smaller, occupant.

The grin on Kid's lips widened further, unfurling into a Cheshire smile that flashed white teeth against the shadows. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

The small device in his ear gave a crackle of static before Jii-chan's curious voice asked,_ "Young Master? Is something wrong?"_

"No, no... Everything is just _perfect,_" Kid purred.

_"Young Master?"_

Kid laughed, almost giddily, as he remarked, "It seems my most favorite critic, my number one fan, has put in an appearance!"

Checking the other screens, and seeing everything seemed to be running smoothly, Kid brought the image of the main gallery into a larger view and had the camera zoom in on the scene playing out with the small detective. Lifting his hand, he palmed the remote and fiddled with his earpiece to tune into the listening device closest to the group.

_"–ho let that kid in again?!" _Nakamori bellowed, pointing irately at Conan.

The boy was wandering toward them, navigating around the many display cases with their shiny baubles. Kid noted the way he paused to examine The Blue Elpis sitting prominently at the center of the room. It truly was a resplendent specimen: A deep blue, with high grade transparency. The circle of lighting above it refracted off the multiple facets sending sparks of blue hued light splintering in the air around it. While cut, the stone wasn't set in anything and was simply placed on a velvet lined stand.

Conan's head tilted up, turning and tracking his gaze across the entire room. Kid could see him take note of every entrance and exit as well as every corner, every nook, every person, and display case. Those sharp eyes didn't seem to miss a detail, but Kid knew he wouldn't find anything in that room unless he spotted his covert watching and listening devices. He didn't think he would though, but the kid always managed to surprise him. Kid did _so_ enjoy returning the favor.

The strangely intelligent child wandered over to the Elpis' case and stood up on his tip toes, small hands braced against the side of the podium beneath the glass case, to get a better look. A moment later Nakamori had snagged him by the back of his jacket and pulled him up and away. It really was amusing how the kid had barely gained any height at all in the span of time he'd been chasing him. Kid grinned, watching the resigned look flicker and disappear over the boy's face as he glared at the Keibu from the corner of his eyes.

By the time Nakamori had hauled the little brat far enough back to see him, Conan was smiling that childish smile. If Kid hadn't been watching, hadn't known to watch, he might have thought that adult annoyance he had displayed had never existed.

_"So that's the jewel Kid's going to steal?_" Conan asked chirpily.

Nakamori set him back down on his feet a lot more gently than Kid had seen Mouri do in the past, and privately he thought it was because the dogged old Keibu was more used to dealing with capricious children. He'd had to put up with _Kaito_ as his daughter's best friend for years, after all.

_"Ah, no..._" Wakahisa piped up before Nakamori could even begin dressing down the boy and trying to convince him to leave. _"We believe he's going to steal The Lucky Seven."_

_"Ehh? Really? Can I see the heist note? I love puzzles!_"

Kid allowed himself a snicker. Just like that the little detective had brought the entire room under his control. A well placed smile, just a few words, and he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. The best part was that they didn't even know it. Edogawa was the most masterful puppeteer Kid had ever encountered. He hated to admit that, most of the time, he really didn't know what to do with the boy. He had, however, learned to never underestimate him at that first heist, and had the lesson driven home time and again. Every time Kid was sure he had things in control, just add one Tantei-kun to the mix and _everything_ fell apart.

Edogawa Conan was the wrench in Kaitou Kid's proverbial gears.

The quality of the small screen was rather grainy, add that to the size and it was nigh on impossible to really see the child's face now as he poured over the sheet of paper he'd been handed. It was obviously a copy of the note, as told by the lack of evidence bag. Nakamori scowled on, obviously resigned to the kid joining the hunt once more.

Kid, personally, thought that the man was more fond of Conan than he let on. After all, not just anyone could keep up with Kaitou Kid, but Nakamori was still set on the fact that only _he_ could capture him, something that continued to amuse the thief to no end.

"Good luck on that, Keibu," he murmured. As far as he was concerned the only way that was going to happen was if he was killed, or someone ratted him out. "The day I see you come walking up to my front door, cuffs out and with the intent to arrest me, is the day I will quietly admit defeat."

In the end Kid was sure just about everyone in the rather easy going Task Force had developed a soft spot for the pipsqueak. He really did fit right in, kind of like Hakuba in a way. It really was such a shame he hadn't managed to get the two detective's together at one of his heists. The thrill would, no doubt, be phenomenal.

Another man came jogging onto the scene and waved to the reporter woman from across the gallery to signal that everything was set up. Wakahisa had, somehow, convinced Nakamori to allow the whole thing to be recorded. Kid didn't mind, of course, it was just a bigger audience for him.

_"Take the brat with you,"_ The inspector growled. _"That way he'll stay out of my hair._"

As Conan followed Wakahisa, the reporter, and the camera man he rolled his eyes at Nakamori's bluster. Kid quickly switched the channel of his earpiece as they passed out of one devices range and into another.

_"But aren't the jewels in that other room?" _Conan asked as he trotted obediently at the heels of the adults. _"The one that man came out of?_"

_"Actually,_" Wakahisa murmured gently. _"Each of the seven is kept in its own separate room so we've set up a camera in each room, as well as guards."_

_"Wow! And Kid's going to steal them all? I wonder how he'll manage that!"_

_"It certainly seems impossible,_" the reporter commented, cheerfully. _"And we've got front row seats!"_

Conan gave that razor edge smirk Kid was used to seeing when he was intent, focused, and ready to rip the curtains concealing his every nuance down around him as he replied,_ "Well, he's Kid right? He can do the impossible."_

For a moment Kid wondered if the brat _knew_ he was listening, or if he just expected him to be. He would probably never know, but he could certainly feel the way his pulse picked up at the faint taste of danger, the feel of being hunted, and knowing the hunter was aware of his presence. Kid never could understand how such a small human could give off the feeling of such a _massive_ predator.

The reporter stared back at him, visibly unnerved. _"I... I guess so._"

Conan's demeanor immediately changed back to that of a bubbly little boy, and he shook off their unease just as quickly. Kid would have applauded. Sighing softly, resigned to the fact that, no matter how amusing, he couldn't spend the whole night watching the little detective lead the adults around by their hands, Kid twisted his wrist around to peer at his watch. He had to squint to see it in the faint glow of the device in his hand.

_60... 59... 58..._

Beginning the count down in his mind, Kid quickly brought the screens back to their multi-screen setting. Everything was ready, now all that was left was to wait for the appropriate moment. He shook the remote back out of his sleeve and set the viewer aside in a dark shadowy pocket, then leaned down. Pinching his fingers around the antenna of a radio he tossed it neatly up into the air, straightened, and caught it tightly in his free hand as it began to fall.

Turning on his heel, white cape fluttering out in a faint rustle of fabric, properly dramatic despite the lack of current audience, Kid stepped into place and brought the radio to his mouth.

_10... 9... 8... 7..._

In his ear he could hear Tantei-kun saying something, but he tuned it out.

_Showtime~!_

He pressed the button on the side of the radio as the well practiced Kid smile slid back into place and he spoke, "Good Evening ladies and gentlemen, my dear Task force, Nakamori-keibu, Wakahisa-san, and last but most certainly not least, Tantei-kun. I bid you all welcome! And, now, I shall take the prize I said I would come to claim..."

With that, Kid thumbed the switch to activate the first phase of his trick.

–

Conan's head whipped around as the voice of the thief suddenly echoed from every corner. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. The men of the Task Force tensed up even as the camera man swung his camera to take in the scene of the small room they had emerged into. It wasn't much: very small and containing little else but a black star sapphire sitting within its display case. Windowless, and with only a single entrance to the room in which the four of them stood, there was no way that Kid was actually in the room and so...

Narrowing his eyes Conan started to dash toward the pedestal where the jewel sat when the lights went out. The abrupt change in the light made Conan halt roughly, his own momentum sending him falling to one knee where he froze, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The only illumination was provided by the dim lighting set around the jewel itself. With one hand braced on the floor, Conan swung his head from one side to the other, listening and looking. He took in the clearing silhouettes of the other people in the room at a glance. Wakahisa and the two news workers remained frozen just inside the doorway while the few Task Force workers stood nearer to the jewel. Conan was alone in the middle of the room.

There was a sudden, soft hiss, and smoke began to filter into the room; thick white plumes of it that coiled into the air and _stuck_ there, heavily, like fog.

The radio at one man's belt crackled, _"Kid! It's Kid! He's in the gray room!"_

_"What?!"_ another voice hollered, _"No way! He's in the yellow room!"_

_"He's here also! In the white room!"_

On it went, reports from each of the rooms where the star sapphires were housed until... Someone made a surprised noise, and even as the task force member jerked his radio out to report the appearance, Conan turned to focus on Kid as the thief's mocking laughter echoed from the ceiling and the walls.

Kid crossed one arm in front of his stomach, then bowed over it before straightening and grinning. The smoke that filled the room cloaked him, twining and mixing with the bright white of his suit and cape in a way that made his edges blend and blur. In that moment he was very like the warped and twisted phantom he masqueraded as.

Conan stared, eyes narrowed in focus. There was something that wasn't _quite right_ about the thief there. He didn't have quite so long to think on it because, even as he could hear the men starting to muster themselves again, could hear people regaining their minds and recovering from their confused shock, a renewed chorus began.

_"It's gone! It's just… He has it! Kid has it!"_

Sure enough the figment standing in the room was suddenly flipping one of the jewels up and down, and seconds later (as more shouts of shocked outrage came) a second jewel appeared as the thief began to juggle them dexterously. One after another the sapphires appeared, looping neatly through the air and reflecting soft light in battered fragments over their glistening surfaces.

Turning, Conan brought his attention on the black gem sitting prettily in its case and, not a second later, it disappeared in a puff of gold hued smoke and a shower of metallic shaded confetti. Twisting back around Conan watched as the thief added the black star sapphire to his juggling with a flick of his wrist.

Kid even had the audacity to wink.

Then, just as quickly as it had all happened the smoke billowed up, Kid caught all seven gems, brought his cape up, and _vanished_.

Shouts of surprise and aggravation rang through the rooms, and he could hear Nakamori's bellows for them to find the thief even here. Behind him the reporter was talking excitedly, "You saw it here! Kid appeared in all seven rooms at the same time and proceeded to steal all seven of the stare sapphires! Multi-location! Can you believe it?"

The men of the Task Force darted down the hall as the lights flickered back on, obviously searching to see if the thief was there. Conan ignored the growing insanity, and turned to glare at the point where the thief had 'appeared'. In the first moments as brightness filled the room again he could _swear_ he'd seen a flicker of something.

Wakahisa and the news crew had turned and were giving chase back to the main gallery leaving Conan in the room alone. Faintly he could hear Nakamori-keibu instructing his men to go and check the exits and roof. It seemed that they figured once the thief had the jewels he'd make his escape. Hadn't they been sure that Kid's target was the Elpis? Yet, he didn't seem interested in it; he'd gone straight for the Lucky Seven.

Something didn't sit right.

Brushing it aside, Conan stood up and made his way toward where Kid had appeared through the dissipating smoke. It didn't seem like there was anything amiss over here, just a wall like the rest. Turning his head to glance back toward where the jewel had been, Conan caught that slight flash again.

Trotting forward quickly he almost tripped over the filmy material laying there. Kneeling down he frowned at it, reaching out and touching it. It was some sort of thin, papery material that was of a similar color to the walls. He stood back up and took a few more steps only to come face to face with himself. Conan smirked, pressing a hand against the cool, smooth glass of the mirror.

Of course, it was classic, it was basic, but done with pompous flare in a way that was all Kaitou Kid. Who would suspect the master magician thief to use a trick so base as smoke and mirrors?

Most likely the smoke had covered up the paper's fall, and the confusion over Kid's multiple sudden appearances had kept anyone from acting quickly enough. How had he managed to 'appear' in so many rooms? They were located in a circular fashion around the main gallery, with three on each side and the seventh directly across from the elevator! Sometimes Conan couldn't even begin to fathom how the thief's mind worked. Kid's mind was so much like a fun house to be able to produce these kinds of tricks and traps, and he couldn't help but get lost just like anyone else. He just had the capability to find his way more easily.

Sucking in a sudden, quiet, breath of realization Conan looked up slowly. There! Another out of place flicker, but up much higher. It really was just like a fun house, wasn't it? Or maybe a laser was more accurate. Leave it to Kid to pull off something so impossible.

What remained, though, was what he was up to. Conan had read the heist note, and he thoroughly agreed with Nakamori that Kid was after the Elpis, so why take the Lucky Seven? Kid didn't steal what he didn't come to take after all. Of course, Conan was pretty sure the thief had already _had_ the Lucky Seven all things considered, but why take them at all? Why set up this elaborate trick?

Unless... A distraction! That's right; all magicians worked by distracting the audience so you didn't see the trick!

Whirling around Conan bolted from the room, down the short hall, and skidded back into the main gallery which had been left guarded by only a handful of Task Force members. Said men were currently slumped on the floor in various places enjoying a nap. Kid stood before the podium where the Elpis' display case rested. The thief turned his head to regard Conan, and grinned widely at him.

"Ah, Tantei-kun! I knew you were too good to race off like the rest of them. So thorough, so capable.... You really are such a good critic. It's so nice of you to stay back and examine the fine details. You're like a sommelier! Such a fine connoisseur, you are."

Snorting at the thief's dramatics, Conan shoved his hands in his pockets and started forward. "What are you talking about? I just pick your tricks apart so I know the truth of your ridiculous game."

Kid turned to face him completely, pressing the fingertips of one white gloved hand against his chest. "I'm hurt that you think so lowly of me! Here I put on a spectacular show all for your benefit and you treat me as nothing more than a crass street magician. For shame, Tantei-kun, you should learn to appreciate things more!"

"Ha... ha..." Conan choked out sarcastically. He was close enough that he could get a clean shot if he wanted to. "You didn't even know I was coming."

Heaving a melodramatic sigh, the thief waved his hand at Conan as if to dismiss the boy. "But I had hoped, and isn't that what truly matters?"

Conan blinked at him, head tilting slightly in confusion as a scowl marked his face. "What does that even _mean_? I wouldn't have come, but I decided you were slightly more amusing than the latest reruns of Kamen Yaiba."

"You're always so cruel," Kid complained mockingly, and skipped back a couple of paces. "No sense of true art and imagination at all!"

Conan knelt in a single swift movement and put his hand on the button at the ankle of his shoe. Kid's grin widened a fraction at that movement. As Conan charged the power on his shoe, Kid brought his hands up tugging on his sleeves one after the other in the classic 'nothing up my sleeves' gesture. Conan wouldn't have believed it if his life depended on it.

Reaching back, Kid caught the edge of his cape in one hand and brought it swinging forward to hide the display behind it, arm concealing even more of his face. His other hand he held up, just above his arm, four of the seven jewels suddenly held between his fingers. His hand dipped down quickly, hidden for a split second before coming back up with the remaining three jewels. Another dip, and he brought his hand up holding nothing.

Kid closed his hand, opened it, turned it to show the back, then pulled his cape away from in front of the case with a loud flutter of fabric. A puff of smoke engulfed his previously empty hand which now contained the Blue Elpis. The thief grinned wickedly, tilting his head a bit to the side to indicate the display case. Conan gave it the barest of glances, and wasn't surprised to see it contained the seven jewels from before.

Surging back to his feet Conan reached down, and grasped the buckle of his belt, but before he could act Kid dropped a flash bomb. More than prepared Conan brought his arm up and swiveled away, following the light sound of fabric fluttering as Kid rushed passed. The room really was too quiet, and narrow to allow him to take such a route without some notice.

Conan hit the button, and kicked out blindly. The ball rushed through the air, full force, and a second later he heard Kid's steps change and falter as the thief was forced to skip back lest he be caught in the head by the projectile; a second later the soccer ball impacted loudly against the doors of the elevator.

When the spots bouncing around his vision cleared Conan could see the doors to the service stairs just finishing their swing closed. Without giving it a moment's thought the shrunken detective gave chase. Dashing across the room, he was slowed only marginally by the heavy door before he slid into the stairwell.

Two choices: Up, or down. Default knowledge on Kid said that the thief would head up because of the heights, but there was a possibility that Nakamori was waiting up there because of Kid's ploy. Poised to choose one or the other, Conan's mind raced, spinning out possibilities and calculating probability. A sudden whistle had him jerking his head back and looking upward. Kid was leaning over the railing a few floors up, gripping his hat with one hand and waving with the other.

"Yoohoo, brat! This way!"

Giving an annoyed growl, Conan quickly whirled toward the upward heading stairs, even as Kid leapt away from the railing and resumed his climb with a delighted laugh.

"Bastard!" Conan hissed, gritting his teeth and fairly flying around the corner at the next landing.

The thief had waited long enough that Conan could see the trailing end of that white cape flapping up ahead of him, teasing and taunting him with every glimpse. He was so focused on that slight flicker of movement that he almost missed the sudden cascade of hundreds of marbles bouncing down the steps toward him. Yelping, Conan quickly grabbed the railing and flattened himself up against it.

"Kid!"

The thief peered down at him, clapping politely. "Wonderful reflexes, Tantei-kun! One day you might just catch up with me!"

"I won't just catch up!" Conan retorted, angrily. "I'll take you down!"

"I look forward to the day!"

Once the shower of marbles had stopped, Conan tore after the thief again. He stumbled slightly as he came to another landing. He had nearly fallen face first into a series of tripwires. Growling loudly to himself, Conan proceeded to pick his way between the meticulously laid traps. He had _no_ idea how Kid had managed to lay these so fast. Though there was a high probability that the thief had set the traps beforehand, _just in case_.

What was it he'd said? He had hoped Conan would come. It occurred to Conan that there was a possibility Kid had prepared all of this _just_ for him, on the off chance he showed up. It was, in a strange way, kind of flattering that Kid thought him enough of a... rival?– to do this. Conan didn't think threat was the word he was looking for there. Kid wouldn't have basically _invited_ him to chase him if he felt he was a threat. He wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or not.

He made it passed the trip wires, or so he thought, until he tripped over the last one and fell flat, chin catching on the step in front of him hard enough that his teeth clacked together rather painfully. The horde of Slinkies that came scrambling down the stairs, however, was more amusing than anything.

By this point he was, despite himself, starting to get annoyed. Shoving himself back to his feet Conan scrambled up the stairs, dodging the slowly advancing army of metal coils, and sprinted upwards. Not far off he heard a door slam, and found himself exasperatedly amused to see a sign had been plastered to the wall with a Kid doodle, hand added that pointed further up the stairs with the words 'He went that way!' written on it as well.

Snorting in amusement, Conan yanked the nearby door open and tumbled inside. The hallway before him was startlingly empty and illuminated only by moon glow, and the floodlights outside. Conan scanned the space slowly, looking for the thief. Could he have tricked him? Could Kid have slammed the door, and continued upward? He hadn't heard any sounds of movement, but...

A sudden rush of air made Conan stumble backwards as the thief in question dropped from above and landed, crouching, a few inches in front of him. Kid's moon white cape pooled around him, the shadows clinging in loving heaviness to his face. He'd pulled the top hat forward to deepen them, and the glassy surface of his monocle glinted. Conan stared, attention held raptly.

Kid reached out, gloved hand lightly capturing his chin and tilting his head up. Conan found himself frozen as the thief leaned in closer, apparently examining his chin with studious intent and a faint frown on his face. He realized, numbly, that he could have taken Kid out at any second (maybe); could just reach out and knocked his hat off, or brought his watch up. It could have been over in seconds, but as the feeling of a cloth covered thumb sliding over the bruising skin of his chin made him wince, Conan realized he couldn't. Not like this. They had something of a strange moral understanding between each other, though Conan was never quite sure of how far it went in any direction. It was a mercurial understanding at best..

"My apologies," Kid murmured.

"Its fine," Conan said brusquely. "I missed the last one. My fault."

"All the same..." Kid released him then, and stood, before backing away slowly as if afraid any sudden movement would startle him into action again.

Conan let his position relax, stood there staring contemplatively at the thief in much the same way he would view an out of place clue on a case. Once Kid was far enough away from him that the thief didn't look like he'd bolt away at any moment, Conan walked forward. He kept one eye on Kid even as the thief tensed up again, and stood before the window. Reaching out he placed one hand on the cool glass, breath fogging against it, and looked down at the roaring crowd below.

He watched Kid's reflection. The thief looked wary, but relaxed, and more than a little unsure and surprised. Conan could only wonder what was going through his head right then.

"And, now, you're going to make your daring escape right, Kaitou Kid-san?"

Kid's head tilted, and Conan could almost feel the thief's curious regard. "Giving in already, Tantei-kun?"

Conan gave a noncommittal hum, then a sharp smirk. "Your adoring public awaits, is all." The plastic gave a little click as he flipped the cross hairs of his dart watch up and turned to face the thief, finger poised on the trigger.

Kid tensed up, ready to spring out of the way at a moment's notice. Conan bit back a sigh, wishing for a fleeting second that this encounter could have lasted a little longer. He realized, oddly, that he would have liked to just carry on a conversation with the thief and see what made him tick without all the hassle and bustle of a heist involved. He'd probably never get a chance like this one.

Both stood still, poised on the precipice of continued confrontation, at least, until the distant roar of an explosion shook the building. The two of them looked upward as bits of dust were shaken loose from the ceiling. Another distant roar sounded, and the building shook again.

"What the...?" Kid hissed. His hand flew up to press against his ear as if he were listening to something. Whatever he heard made him swear quietly.

Conan immediately darted for the stairwell. Whether he planned to get out or see what was going on, he didn't know, but even as he raced for it another, much closer blast sounded. He stopped a few feet from the door, a second of indecision that probably saved his life as the stairwell behind was ripped to shreds in the next blast. Fire, light, heat, sound; it all roared around him, the door blasting open. White engulfed him, an arm catching around his waist and pulling him sharply back even as more explosions sounded. The roaring seemed like it was never going to end.

"We need to get out of here."

"I could probably carry us both if we jumped," Kid offered.

"We'd need to break the windows, is there–"

The thief wavered as the floor bucked under his feet, and nearly fell. Kid set him back on the floor where Conan staggered, hand automatically grasping a handful of Kid's slacks to steady himself. The building was heaving like it was under assault by a powerful earth quake, and flames licked across the walls with vicious golden-orange tongues all around them. An ominous groan coiled through the walls like a rising monster; it was a sound that made his stomach swoop uncomfortably. Conan looked upward to see cracks splintering through the ceiling.

Yet another blast went off, and the floor cracked open as another shake twisted the building. Several more that sounded like they were above them resounded in quick succession, and the next thing Conan knew he was being tackled, scooped up, and propelled toward the nearby wall. Kid's top hat went flying by his face as the thief crouched over him, and then the world was lost in a twisted mass of sound, light, and movement before darkness reached up and pulled him down into its tender grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fic Pairings:** Mostly Genfic. Light Kaito/Aoko, Shinichi/Ran, Saguru/Aoko, and Heiji/Kazuha

**Final/Series Pairings: **Saguru/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Shinichi (more may appear)

Warnings: Crime, Violence, Character Death.

**Chapter Warnings:** Building Collapse, Trapped/buried characters.

* * *

**Chapter 02**

* * *

Something was terribly, horribly wrong and Ran knew it. She didn't know what it was, or why it had come again, but that feeling was back. The feeling that was like a tight knot beneath her breast bone. What troubled her the most was that her entire being was swamped with a confusing twist of emotions. Part of her mind shrieked that her worry was for Conan, while a quieter part of her whispered for Shinichi.

Ran turned away from the view of the building, looking back as her nervous gaze flickered across the boisterous crowd. Beside her, Sonoko screamed something that she couldn't make out in the tumult from the other people pressing in around her. Almost automatically her gaze turned downward, looking for her small shadow though she knew that he wasn't there. He'd chosen not to come with her for a change, and when he'd made that decision Ran had felt, inexplicably, as if she'd lost something very precious. It wasn't the first time Conan had chosen to do something without her, but it was the first time she could remember him turning her down when she asked if he wanted to go somewhere with her. Chewing her lower lip, Ran turned back to her friend. Sonoko was still caught up in the thrill of the heist, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with a mixture of cold and excitement.

Silently, Ran slipped her phone from her purse and flipped it open. It took seconds to speed dial Shinichi's number. He was the one away, the one who was in some case that could keep him away for _years_, the one who was slowly contacting her less and less....

The phone rang for several timeless seconds before carrying over to voice mail. Ran opened her mouth, about to leave a message when, in the next moment, a thunderous explosion rocked the building where the heist was taking place. High above them the windows lining one floor shattered, sending glass flying outward and raining down toward the crowd. The screaming started then, and the panic, as the crowd began to push and shove to get out of the way. The sound of glass hitting concrete and breaking into dust-fine splinters was almost musical. Behind it, the percussion beat of more explosions roared within the building.

Sonoko let out a surprised squeal that quickly turned pained as one of the fleeing people slammed into her and sent her falling to the ground. Ran quickly stepped in front of her to keep her friend from being trampled by the terrified crowd. Through the people she could see another girl trying to push her way forward, face as wild as her hair, as she screamed something Ran couldn't hear.

Ran caught a glimpse of the skyscraper here and there between flailing limbs; a sight that sent something cold through her. Several floors were burning, flames a fiery golden red against the darkness of the building itself. At the base of it people were rushing out the front doors in disorder. Several men f the task force were half carrying their comrades. One man, a man Ran vaguely recognized as the leader of the task force (He was called Nakamori-keibu, right?) paused just outside the doors, one hand holding them open as his gaze scanned the chaos beyond.

The girl Ran had spotted shoving through the crowd moments ago hit the wood blockade, leaning over it with her hand stretched out as she screamed something. The man at the door saw her, and gestured sharply at her before turning and darting back into the building. A man near the girl grabbed her as she nearly scrambled over the barrier, and that was when Ran saw something that made her breath catch.

A skateboard. A familiar looking skateboard. But, that couldn't be right, could it? No, Conan was home, safe and sound. He didn't even _know_ there was a heist. _Ran_ hadn't known until Sonoko had told her....

A hand landed near Ran's shoulder blades, grasping her jacket in a tight fist. Sonoko had managed to scramble back to her feet and was pressed behind Ran's back. The other girl tugged lightly. "Come on, Ran! We need to get out of here!"

"Y-yes," Ran agreed. She couldn't understand why her heart was telling her she was making a mistake. She realized, moments later, that even if she had wanted to stay she couldn't. The thick crowd was driving them both back and toward the side.

"Excuse me!" A voice yelled, nearing the two as they tried to shove their way out of the surging mass of people. "Ouch! Hey! Watch it!"

They stumbled into a clear area where people were diverting around a girl with pig tails, and large round spectacles on her face. Said glasses had been knocked askew by the crowds jostling. The girl righted them, and blinked at the two in surprise.

"Excuse me, have you seen a girl that..." She paused, squinting at Ran in surprise. "Aoko?"

"No, sorry. I'm Mouri Ran."

"Ran!" Sonoko hissed. "This isn't the time to be polite!"

"Sonoko!"

The girl broke into the conversation, "Have you seen a girl that looks a lot like you then? She went running toward the building!"

Ran's thoughts immediately flashed to the girl she'd seen earlier, the one who had looked terrified and was trying so desperately to reach the skyscraper. "I saw–"

Another explosion cut off her words, and this time it was followed by the horrifying sound of shattering concrete. The bespectacled girl's head tilted back, eyes widening enormously behind her lenses, her mouth falling open. Ran looked back, even as Sonoko did, and was nearly deafened by her friend's horrified scream.

Men in riot squad gear were running toward them, ushering the stragglers ahead of them. "Get back! Move!"

One of the corners at the top of the building was tearing away, slowly, but giving none the less. Huge slabs of concrete began to rain down, as more glass shattered, and the building began to list and break. It was obvious that, shortly, it wouldn't be standing anymore at all.

More scared than ever, people shoved them forward. No one seemed to care when people stumbled, fell, got stepped on as people pushed to put distance between them and the collapsing skyscraper. It was every man, woman, _person_ for themselves. It didn't take long for Ran to lose sight of Sonoko in the ensuing chaos, and when she finally found herself in a moment of startling peace she had no real idea of where she was.

A massive, horrible sound, like thunder, reached her ears. Glancing back she watched in shocked horror as the large corner of the building finally fell free and dropped down smashing one of the task force's vans beneath it like an insect. Only a few heart beats later the building itself gave up and fell in on itself, flattening like some giant godly hand had just pressed it down.

Ran crouched down with a surprised scream as a cloud of dust and debris raced toward her, her arms clutching around her head. The phone she had somehow managed to keep hold of flew from her grip at last and went skittering across the ground, kicked toward the nearby buildings by running feet. Something metal clanged off the cement a few feet to her right and went rolling away. The sound of rock showering around her was like a hailstorm, and she flinched as a good sized bit hit her back.

The immensity of the silence that followed was almost more terrifying than the noise and confusion of before. Ran trembled as it settled around her, and peeked out from behind her arms. There was a fine layer of gray dust across her jacket sleeves. She could almost _feel_ it in her hair.

Slowly she uncurled from the fetal position she'd taken up. Ran found herself in a world of sepia and gray. The dust was still settling, and she choked before breaking into a coughing fit on the first inhale. As the dust eased slightly she could see the glow of her cell phone's screen several feet away. Dropping to her hands and knees Ran crawled over to the device and scooped it up before snapping it closed.

The shivers wracking her body still hadn't ceased and, in fact, seemed to be getting worse. Ran bit hard on her lip, fighting back the tears that wanted to slide down her cheeks in the wake of the event. She couldn't go to pieces yet! She was strong, she was fine. She'd stood up to things just as awful as this before!

Setting her jaw stubbornly Ran pushed herself back to her feet. The dust was starting to clear away now, and she could hear other people nearby.

"Nakamori-chan, please!" a hoarse male voice said.

Homing in on the sound of another person Ran headed in that direction. She hoped she would find Sonoko soon. Her fingers tightened on her phone until the plastic creaked plaintively. The nagging pit of cold worry in her stomach urged her to call Conan. He had to be fine! She soothed herself with the fact that there was no reason for him to have been here. Ahead of her, in the clogged air, she could see dark shadows, and as she drew closer, Ran could hear the sound of ragged sobbing. When she could finally see who she was approaching, she recognized the girl she'd seen standing with one of the task force men. The girl had slid to the ground, distraught, as sobs shook her body.

"Ran!"

Sonoko's voice made her turn, and Ran inhaled to reply only to cough and sputter. Finally she choked out a rasping, "Sonoko! Over here!" Two more shadows darted through the lessening dust toward her. Ran was sure she'd never been more relieved to see Sonoko in her life.

"Ran!" Sonoko breathed. "There you are! Are you okay? My cloths certainly aren't...."

Ran couldn't help but laugh weakly at her friend's audacity, and when Sonoko winked at her it made her smile widen. The other girl, the one with glasses, rushed past the two of them with a strangled sound of distress. Ran turned to watch her run to the crying girl's side. For a moment she stood there, torn in indecision between going and offering the stranger some comfort as well and seeing to what she _knew_ she had to.

She was just putting it off.

Numbly, Ran lifted her phone again, and this time she dialed Conan's number. Pressing the device to her ear she waited. She didn't have to wait long as the response she got was that the phone was either off, or out of range. It took everything she had not to start freaking out. There was still a chance that Conan had gone to bed, or was at Agasa's... That thought in mind, Ran quickly called the professor. Her mind clinging frantically to the ideal that everything was _fine_.

The phone picked up, and before the professor could even say a word Ran felt her question leave her in a rush, "Is Conan-kun there?"

But, even before Agasa replied, as the man paused and a heavy silence came over the line, Ran _knew_. She reached out blindly to grab hold of Sonoko's arm, sagging slightly as she paled. She just _knew_ that something horrible had happened. Just like with Shinichi....

"Ran? What's the matter?!"

Sonoko's voice sounded distorted and distant, never really penetrating her mind. Ran couldn't help but wonder if every time she would be doomed to failure in helping the people close to her. Tears slipped slowly down her grime covered cheeks.

"Ran!"

_Please be okay..._

–

The first thing Conan knew as he swam up from the parasitic depths of unconsciousness was that something was very_, very wrong_. There was an oppressiveness all around him that pushed down on him, bore down on his chest, pressed until he felt like he couldn't breathe. The second thing he realized was that, even when he opened his eyes, he _still couldn't see_. Where ever he was it was _pitch_ black. It was the truest form of darkness: Complete, absolute, utter absence of light. By that point the panic was already starting to make his rib cage tighten, and his breath come short in his straining lungs.

He was hyperventilating, and he couldn't seem to stop.

The third thing, a small part of his mind that was completely detached from the rest noted, was _he wasn't alone_. Conan found he was _engulfed_ in heat. A stagnant, unmitigated warmth that embraced him from all sides, but particularly pressed down on him from above. He wasn't stupid. He could tell that there was a body above him. A warm, breathing, lithely muscled body covered in fabric. Had he not been too busy panicking over his apparent blindness he might have been embarrassed.

The man, obviously so from the lack of cleavage smothering him, was crouched over him with his forearms braced against the ground a bit above Conan's head and his knees either side of the small detective's hips. Conan's own knees were bent, his feet flat against the ground and his toes jammed rather uncomfortably against what felt like solid stone. Something smooth and hard tickled the Conan's temple.

Slowly a voice was beginning to penetrate the haze of hysteria laying like a thin veil over Conan's normally focused mind.

"_Tantei-kun."_

He knew that voice! There was only one person who called him that, but there was something _off_...

"_Tantei-kun!"_

They sounded _urgent_, and Conan figured he should probably get himself under control. This probably wasn't the best time to be having a fit... He had the feeling something serious was going on...

"_Tantei-kun! Listen to me; you have __**got**__ to stop panicking! Calm down, focus..."_

Conan groaned softly. The small, hard thing tapped against his forehead again, and he asked, "Kid?"

There was a rusty chuckle scant inches above him from the thief. "That's good. How are you doing, Tantei-kun?"

He felt confused, Conan thought, but he answered, "I can't see..."

Another rough sounding laugh was his answer. He wondered what was wrong with Kid's voice, "Neither can I, Tantei-kun." There was a long, drawn out pause, and then, "What do you remember?"

Remember...? What _did_ he remember? What was he _supposed_ to remember?

The air tasted stale, unmoving, and his cheeks were flushed, tight, and stinging from the heat. Sweat was making his fringe and cloths stick to his face and body, and above that, his mouth felt of dust and congealing saliva. Unpleasant was the best way to describe the situation he was in.

Mind reeling as it jumped from topic to topic, sifting and searching for the elusive little drawer titled 'Short Term Memory', Conan focused on what his other senses were telling him.

He was in a small space, and Kid was directly above him. Kid who was so close he could feel the thieves every breath stirring his sweat soaked hair, feel every tensing and twitch of muscle beneath the white suit and pinpoint the locations of Kid's current batch of tricks.

There wasn't a blindfold over his eyes, it was just _dark_.

Small, dark, enclosed, warm...

Kid shifted and Conan could hear the rasp of fabric against something rough, like stone. Soft fabric tickled against the back of his hand. Twisting his hand around slightly, he recognized the fabric of Kid's cape against his fingertips. A thicker, heavier fabric than what one normally felt. It was almost like some sort of canvas, but not the same texture or weight.

What did he remember...?

It came back in a rush and he gasped. Kid twitched above him again and a trickle of dust slid from the too close ceiling. It pattered against Conan's glasses. His heart constricted in understanding and sheer terror. He gripped his calm, and kept it close. Conan had felt this kind of fear before and he hadn't let it control him then, and wouldn't now.

Edogawa Conan was well accustomed to the fear that rode hand in hand with _knowing you could die at any second_.

Swallowing hard, he tried to choke down a mixture of saliva and concrete dust. It merely settled in his throat and refused to move. Finally, he croaked, "I remember... an explosion."

_Intense heat swam up ahead of a billowing cloud of sound, light, and industrial rage. The sound hit him next in an unintelligent roar that blasted from everywhere at once. Next came the blast itself. He was pulled and tugged as fire and debris raged around him. Something white flickered in his vision, and he could hear the groaning of a structure losing to gravity before everything began to fade away..._

"That's right." Kid agreed, his voice strained and tight.

Then they were...

"We didn't make it out did we?"

"I'm afraid not Tantei-kun."

For a long time Conan remained quiet as several questions swirled around in his mind. The heist had taken place in one of the many sky scrapers scattered around the city, and he'd been chasing Kid up, and up, and up... They'd been pretty high in the floor numbers when it had happened...

"Do you know what happened?" Kid almost _always_ monitored the police conversations.

"The task force found several bombs throughout the entire building, just a bit too late," the thief said sardonically. He sounded really peeved off about something. "All the main support structures, and on several of the middle floors, like the one we were on, so it would collapse faster, I suppose..."

Mind racing Conan's eyes flickered back and forth over points of interest he couldn't even see. "But who would...?"

"There are many people who'd want to see me dead. Or maybe just fools who want to terrorize innocent people."

"But..." Conan pointed out, "You think there's a reason behind this, don't you?"

Kid was silent for a long moment, and, as he shifted with the sound of fabric rubbing against stone again, it occurred to Conan that there was something _weird_ about the tense way Kid was holding himself. He couldn't be afraid that Conan would find out who he was, was he? It was, after all, darker than the bottom of a well in here...

"Yes, yes I do."

And, of course, Kid was annoyed that so many people were probably _hurt_ or _dead_ because of this. Most particularly _innocent_ bystanders and _his own task force_. But, right then, deducing the way Kid's suspicions went, and the way his mind worked wasn't what was on Conan's mind.

"Kid? What's wrong?"

"Other than having an entire building fall down around me?" the thief asked blithely.

Conan snorted and would have laughed if he thought it wise. "Yes, other than that."

"Having an entire building on my back."

As sticky as cement dust and coagulated saliva, Conan's breath caught in his throat. "You don't mean..." The words left him as some twisted version of a squeak and a croak that was lost almost as soon as it emerged.

Slowly, carefully, tentatively, Conan pulled his arms out from under the thief and brought them up by his head. He reached out, his fingers brushing past tousled hair and the hard knobs of Kid's glider cape. It was there, right _there. _The ceiling of their tiny space was pressing down tightly against the thief. The only thing between them and certain, crushing death... The only thing there was the thief himself, and whatever faulty support the debris around them was providing.

Conan could almost _feel_ the pressure of thousands of tons of concrete, glass, furniture, and steel pressing down on them. It was unforgiving, and hostile, and inert. It was...

"Don't freak out on me now, Tantei-kun... There's no room for hysterics."

Eyes unbelievably wide, and suddenly feeling horribly cold in a way he usually only experienced when the Black Organization was, involved Conan breathed in noisily. "Kid..."

"I'm fine, but..."

They both knew it: their chances of surviving were so _very_ slim at this point. It was then that Conan recalled his watch, and felt a flush creeping over his cheeks at his own, rather foolish, panic. "Hold on," he murmured. Then, remembering the precarious nature of Kid's identity he whispered, "I.. I may have a light."

The pause now, was long, strained, and drawn out until it felt like it was going to break. He could feel every breath Kid took, his chest swelling and pressing down against him. Kid's exhales stirred his sweaty fringe. When Kid finally spoke it was with a great sense of delicacy, as if he were placing his very life in Conan's hands, and, Conan supposed, he was. "Go ahead. It would be helpful if we could have a look at our situation, I suppose."

Conan wasn't fooled in the least by the lackadaisical wording. He could tell how tense Kid was.

Slowly, carefully, he brought his hands back down and reached for his wrist. His fingers slipped over the plastic, damp with sweat, and he noticed, faintly, that all that remained of the cross hairs was a broken bit of plastic. Finally he found the button for the flashlight, and pressed it. No light flared. He tried again, and got the same results. Letting out a breath that tasted faintly of annoyance, and, oddly, relief he quietly informed the thief, "It's broken."

The thief said nothing. Conan wondered what he must be thinking. Was he relieved that his identity was safe for the moment? Perturbed that they would remain trapped here in darkness? Or was he thinking about whatever life he led beyond the confines of the heists? Conan let his arms fall to the sides, resting against Kid's. He could feel the tense strain of muscles bunched and taught beneath the slick, overly warm cloth of the thief's white suit coat.

"Either..." Conan began, then was forced to stop and swallow. He could barely speak past the grime clogging his trachea, and his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. For once he thought, with faint wistfulness, on those annoying child juice boxes Ran was always giving him to drink. Conan rather wanted one right now... "Either you're going to fail, slip or give out... something..." Kid made a disgusted noise here, and Conan couldn't help but cough out a chuckle. "The building will shift because they're trying to dig us out the wrong way... Or we'll run out of air."

"Thank you for that wonderfully morbid and pessimistic disclaimer, Tantei-kun," Kid drawled dryly. Conan wasn't sure if it was because his mouth and throat were as dry as his, or if it was just the thief's inflection. He settled on both and left it at that.

"An' if we're really lucky," Conan burbled, mustering up his little boy act as best he could. "There'll be a methane leak an' the remains of the fires will catch an' we'll go up in a big ball of flames! Whoosh!"

"....Don't ever do that again," Kid murmured pleasantly. "That was downright disturbing."

Conan hacked and wheezed his way through a fit of laughter.

From somewhere too close for real comfort there came the sound of stone grinding on stone. Another trickle of dust fell against Conan's glasses, and he tightened his grip on the thief's sleeves. Kid made a little 'umph' sound as the concrete settled lower, pressing him closer to the boy caged beneath him. Conan could hear him grinding his teeth together.

It took a moment, but everything seemed to stabilize again, and some of the tension in Kid's arms eased away. The thief let out a long, slow breath that ruffled the matted hair near Conan's ear. He twitched faintly, trying to shift his cramping legs. His knees knocked lightly against Kid's thighs and he froze up.

"Kid...?"

"I'm fine," the answer was even more strained this time, and Conan could tell that Kid _wasn't_ fine at all.

Conan pressed his fingers into the wiry muscles of the thief's arms, muscles that were so tight they were more like the stone around them than anything else. He could feel the ridge of veins and tendons even through the thick material of Kid's cloths. Silently, he encouraged the thief to hang on. The muscles twitched and jumped under his fingers and, though it was probably an involuntary reaction to the strain, Conan hoped that maybe Kid understood.

Quietly, the boy detective asked, "Do you have anyone you can contact on the outside? Any way to contact them?"

A small piece of rock fell free, bounced off one of the knobs of Kid's shoulders and came to rest next to Conan's ear like a fly tickling at it. They both held their breath for several agonizing seconds. When nothing else moved, or gave, Kid murmured, "Ah, yeah... I have an earpiece and a microphone, but... I think they got damaged when I tackled you during the explosion. I'm not even getting static."

Conan muttered something uncomplimentary.

Kid tsked, "Such language for your age..."

"Blame it on Nakamori-keibu."

Kid's responding chuckle was cut off when, somewhere in the distance, a loud sound came through the debris around them. A crunching, grinding, roaring sound that made Conan's hair stand on end and, it seemed, made his heart cease to beat. Something that sounded like metal groaned even closer in.

That decided Conan on it, and the shrunken detective freed up one hand and slid it down, patting around his cloths in search of the badge he knew was on him.

"What are you doing?"

"I know I have it here... Ah ha!" Conan grinned in the darkness as he brought the badge up, carefully fumbling the button as he held it near his face. The warm metal brushed his lips. "Hello? Ayumi-chan? Genta-kun? Mitsuhiko-kun? Haibara?"

The Shounen Tantei badge crackled and spat once in his hands and, for a moment, he thought he might have reached someone... but, after that, there was only silence.

"Guys?" he asked again. Nothing. "The concrete is probably blocking the signal." He could only hope that....but, was it worth hoping? He'd keep it to himself for now and hope. At least, that way, one of them wasn't disappointed.

The air was starting to get stickier, and each inhale felt like he was swallowing a gallon of honey. Each time his chest expanded it felt like someone was sitting on him. Which, he supposed, was true in a way.

"Tantei-kun?" Kid's voice was wispy and even hoarser. A droplet of sweat landed on Conan's forehead, but he didn't protest. "Talk to me."

Conan frowned at that... Such a strange request! Hadn't they been talking all this time? Then it hit him... If his small body was starting to have trouble breathing then... Kid was definitely in trouble. He had to keep the thief awake or they were _both_ doomed. Paradoxically, if they talked then they'd use up more oxygen. But at least, he thought rather morbidly, hopefully if things went south they'd both be unconscious when it happened.

Mind racing for a topic that would engage the brilliant criminal's mind, Conan said the first thing that came to him: "I'm not Edogawa Conan. That person doesn't exist." He'd never been sure if Kid had known or not. Sometimes it seemed like he did, sometimes it seemed like he didn't.

For several seconds Kid was quiet then, at length, he asked, "Who do I have the pleasure to make the acquaintance of, then?"

Conan snickered. "Kudou Shinichi, Detective. Pleasure to meet you again, Kaitou Kid-san."

"The guy who cornered me at the clock tower, huh? That was a good one."

"Thank you." And, Conan noted wryly, that didn't reveal whether or not Kid had known, or suspected, the truth. Sneaky bastard.

"May I ask why you're like this?"

For a moment Conan pondered on what he should say, and he could remember telling Takagi in a similar-but-not incident with the mercury bomb that he'd tell him on the other side, but...

"I'm supposed to be dead," he said airily. "Instead I just regressed ten years, and am now hiding out with my childhood best friend and her incompetent detective father while I try and track down the men in black who poisoned me."

"Ah," said Kid. "It seems we have something in common. I'm supposed to be dead as well, you know."

"No," Conan disagreed. "The Kid before you is dead, isn't he?"

Kid was silent, and Conan wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut. The thief's head shifted and the hard, smooth thing bumped against Conan's face again. It occurred to him that it was probably the charm on Kid's monocle. Drawing his hands up, Conan absently ran his fingers across the silent Kaitou's face and over his skull. His fingers touched the lens of the monocle and flitted away again.

The thief never flinched away from his exploration. Instead he spoke, and Conan's fingers were resting upon his lips as he did, "Yeah. They killed him. Killed my dad."

"The Black Organization?"

"I don't know. Some criminal group who were hunting for a specific jewel. So, I'll get it before them, and if I can get them caught while I do it..." Conan figured that, had he been able to and if it would have mattered, the thief would have given a philosophical shrug just then. "So much the better."

Conan wondered if Kid realized that he was practically unmasked. When... _if_ they were found he wouldn't be able to conceal his identity. The thief wasn't in disguise. Conan could tell.

"Seems we have a lot in common," the former high school detective noted absently. Kid smiled against his fingers.

"Seems like it. What are your friends like, Tantei-kun?"

"As Kudou Shinichi, or as Conan?"

"Both."

"As Shinichi I had a lot of fans but... My only really close friend was Ran." Conan paused, then added sardonically, "I'm sure you remember her."

"Of course. A gentleman such as myself never forgets such a charming young lady."

Conan snorted, but decided to ignore it and went on instead. "As Conan? I have this group of six year old kids who follow me around wanting to be detectives. I guess... I... They really aren't that bad. I think I'd even miss them if... if you know I managed to get back to myself."

"Why choose one or the other? Must you give up something to achieve your goal?"

Conan blinked. Kid's expression beneath his fingertips was serious, and almost rueful. He wondered if Kid was asking _Conan,_ or asking _himself_.

"There's always a sacrifice..." Conan whispered. "No matter how hard you try..."

"You're always going to lose something you cherish in the end," Kid finished.

"Yeah..."

In the small space, beneath thousands of tons of metal, concrete, and debris the two rivals came to an understanding in that moment. Completely, and utterly set at peace in a moment between life and death, a moment of uncertainty. There was nothing more compelling, more changing, than finding a perfectly kindred soul after all.

"What about you?" Conan asked softly.

"Kuroba Kaito."

"What?"

"That's my name." The thief's voice was almost cheerful, but had a taught edge to it that scared Conan just a little bit. "And I've been best friends with Nakamori Aoko for as long as I can remember. I think I might be friends with Hakuba as well, but I can never tell."

Conan choked on his own tongue, then commented dryly, "You really _do_ like to live on the edge."

"It's a living."

It was then that Conan realized the thief was starting to sound a little giddy.

"Kid? ...Kid!"

….

"KAITO!"

"You didn't need to yell in my ear, Tantei-kun."

"Don't scare me like that."

Was his own voice beginning to sound a bit slurred...? He couldn't tell... His mind was starting to get cottony around the edges.

"Sorry. I think I'm having trouble focusing."

Conan nodded, and it made his brain rattle around its case. His hands dropped back to the floor, one resting on Kid's arm with a death grip in the fabric. "We're almost out of time."

"You died once, right?" Kid asked. "What's it like?"

"Hurt 'lot. Like... burnin' fr'm t'inside out... 'n' bein' compress'd."

"Oh. That doesn't sound pleasant."

"Wasn't."

And, Conan realized belatedly, that the darkness he saw was starting to spin and swirl like he was going down a drain. It was really disturbing and he wished it would stop.

Distantly, he thought he could hear Kid calling to him.

"_Tantei-kun?"_

"_Tantei-kun?!"_

"_Shinichi!"_

–

The keys clattered quickly beneath Ai's fingertips as she typed intently, her entire being focused on the formulas and equations scrolling across the program before her. Now and then she would pause, if only long enough to reach out and click over to another screen with the mouse. A cup of tea sat nearby, cooling and forgotten, alongside a half eaten plate of food. Somewhere behind her, Ai could hear the professor fiddling with some new invention his strangely brilliant mind had dreamed up.

A minute scowl lit the girl scientist's face, and Ai tapped the back space key impatiently. Poised to resume typing, her eyes scanned what she'd already written in an attempt to regain her train of thought on the formula. Then, without so much as a pause, she deleted the last couple of paragraphs worth of theory.

Whatever she'd been thinking, it was obvious her calculations were wrong here. Sighing heavily, she reached for her tea absently. While Ai wouldn't admit it to Kudou, she was really starting to wonder if she could pull this off. She had done the impossible once, why couldn't she do it again? Was she doomed to have her greatest shame be her greatest achievement forevermore?

The taste of cool tea made her lips thin, and Ai pushed against the desk to make her chair swivel to the side before hopping down off of it. Without a word she made her way out of the room and headed off in the hopes that the pot of tea would still be warm. As she passed through the main room Ai paused, frowning. The professor had left the TV on again. Sighing she made a mental note to shut it off on her way back.

Wandering into the kitchen, Ai made a beeline for the stool set aside for her, and shoved it over to the sink so she could dump out the tea in her cup before she nudged it back toward where the teapot sat on the counter. Climbing up onto it, she set the cup down and reached for the pot.

It was hard, having to make adjustments like this when it came to everyday living, but after so much time it was almost automatic. Muscle memory and routine were truly amazing things. It had been undeniably embarrassing at first, and she could only imagine what it had done to Kudou. He was a very proud person now, and Ai could only fathom how much further that pride had risen before he'd experienced this sudden shift. He had probably needed to be taken down a peg anyway. Not that she didn't regret it; she did, a lot. Who wouldn't? But, no one could deny that Kudou was a brat. Still was, truth be told, though his time spent as a child had had a marked effect in mellowing him out. It amused her sometimes, and, if she were honest with herself, _Kudou_ amused her. Ai couldn't think of many people she'd known who were so much fun to annoy. A small smirk curved her lips at the thought.

One had to gauge very carefully the right time to lay out their attack on him if one wanted a proper response, and Ai liked to think she had become something of an expert at pushing his buttons. She wondered, a little ironically, if that could be put on a resume. Shaking her head in quiet amusement, Ai realized she'd been spending far too much time with the kids.

She would simply have to inflict something particularly painful on Kudou tomorrow for it. Somehow, she was sure, this was his fault.

Stepping down more carefully, so as not to spill her tea, Ai carried the cup toward the front room. She couldn't help but silently enjoy the feeling of the warm liquid through the sides of the cup. The remote lay on the coffee table alongside Ai's backpack, her homework already completed with the usual absurd ease and tucked neatly away. Beside that lay her Shounen Tantei badge. Freeing one hand Ai reached out and picked up the remote, however as she leveled it at the TV the images playing on the screen caught her attention.

It was news coverage of a Kid heist occurring in Beika, except...

Images of explosions, terror, static running in grainy lines across wildly moving cameras as people turned and ran. Scenes that blanked out, and were changed up for others as the in studio reporter relayed information on what had happened. A bombing at the Kaitou Kid heist, the building had_ collapsed._

Ai very nearly jumped out of her skin as the faint sound of spitting static came from below her line of sight. Looking down she stared in confusion at the small badge sitting there. Another crackle was followed by what sounded faintly like words, _"...n...ta-ku....suhi...ra?"_

Snatching up the small device Ai frowned at it as if it would give up all of its secrets and reveal to her the meaning behind the odd transmission. One of the kid's had better not be trying to play a prank on her, but, then she doubted they would. Ayumi was too sweet, and the other two were clearly intimidated by her even now. That left Kudou, but.... Ai was pretty sure he wouldn't bother. No, if Kudou was going to get back at her or pester her it would be perfectly calculated to affect. This just didn't fit the bill.

Just then, Agasa came up, hand cupped over his cellphone so the person on the other end of the line wouldn't hear him. He looked decidedly nervous, "Ai-kun? It's Ran-kun wanting to know about Conan... Do you think I should tell her he's here?"

Ai opened her mouth to respond that he should probably cover for the idiot, and then they should find him, but, like a sinister creeping plant, it slithered into her mind. Ran wouldn't be contacting them if she could get a hold of Conan. Ai's gaze fell back to the silent badge she held in her fingers, face going deathly pale as her eyes flickered up to land on the TV screen again.

The cup of tea fell from her suddenly nerveless hands, hitting the floor with a clatter and sending a cascade of liquid everywhere, as the obvious answer came to her.

"Hakase," She whispered, turning her head on a tense neck to stare at him with wide eyes. "Do you still have an extra pair of Edogawa-kun's glasses?"

For a moment, Agasa looked confused then, he too, noticed the scenes playing over and over again on the television. His phone dropped, unheeded, to the floor to join her teacup.

"Yes, of course, they're in the drawer by the computer."

Ai was off and running before it had even occurred to her to move. Her small fist clutched, white knuckled, around the badge in her hand. It seemed like the edges digging into the soft flesh of her palm was the only thing keeping her calm.

_I've put too much time and effort into you, Kudou! Don't you die on me now._

Surely, if they lost him, all was lost. Ai couldn't allow that, and Ran would be sad too. Ran who was kind and wonderful and reminded her of Akemi so much... Sliding to a halt Ai ripped the drawer open, the contents bouncing around, and began to riffle through the junk inside. The back of her mind, the one that had yet to catch up with the panic coursing through the rest of her, made a quiet note to organize things when she next had the chance. One never knew when they would need an item for an emergency (like now) and be unable to find it.

Finally her small, childish fingers closed around the plastic frames and she jerked them out, knuckle smacking painfully against the edge of the desk. She ignored it, shoved the drawer half closed and left it there as she fled the room just as quickly as she'd come. Agasa was waiting for her, his jacket on, and assuring Ran that they'd be there soon.

Ai didn't bother to get her jacket, just snagged her shoes, and instead preceded the man to the garage. She stood, waiting impatiently as he unlocked the doors before scrambling in. The professor snapped the phone closed before climbing behind the wheel.

She didn't think she could recall a time when Agasa had driven so fast.

Street lights flashed by, casting illumination into the car at intervals. Ai's hands rested, clenched around the pair of glasses and the badge, on her knees. The seat belt dug into her shoulder painfully. She was so tense she felt as if she would snap.

They were used to facing down the danger of living day to day, the fear of discovery. They had looked viciousness in the eye several times in the form of crazed criminals, and even withstood the all-consuming fear that came with the Black Organization even as the slimy bastards continued to ooze around the corners out of sight and unconquerable.

This... Ai hated when things like this happened. Uncontrollable, and out of left field; an unwanted, unaccounted surprise that hadn't been in her calculations. Kudou always had to do that, upset her carefully calculated hypothesis of the current danger level they faced. Damn him for attracting trouble! She didn't think she'd _ever_ met someone quite so danger prone as he was.

"Always in the wrong place at the wrong time aren't you, Kudou?" She whispered, head tilting forward so that the clingy shadows inside the vehicle seemed to center on her face.

Streets passed in a blur, people going nowhere and heading somewhere. Small clusters of the populace that were out at this hour could be seen hovering in front of a few windows that displayed televisions. The scene of the collapsing building played over, and over, and over, duplicated like a fly's eye view of the world.

Ai's stomach clenched, twisted, churned, and ached. This wasn't the heavy pressure of terror she felt when she was confronted by a member of the Black Organization. This was something altogether different, and so cold that it made her want to scream like her appendix had ruptured. On the outside, but for a few tell tale signs, she looked as perfectly calm as ever. Inside, she didn't know if she would ever stop screaming again.

"Ai-kun," Agasa's voice broke through to her, and Ai jerked her head up like she'd been shot. "We'll have to go on foot from here."

The words were spoken to empty air. As soon as the girl had realized they weren't moving anymore Ai had fumbled her seat belt off, and flown out the door, leaving it open in her wake.

She ran, darting by confused people that hovered on the sidewalks, clustered around officials in riot gear and paramedics that sifted through the crowds looking for the injured. Further ahead they congregated more thickly. Fire trucks, police cars, ambulances.... They all sat together around a pile of rubble that now occupied the space where, a short while ago, a skyscraper had stood.

The cold didn't even seem to register as she ran, the child-sized lab coat she wore flapping around her as she pushed her small body to go as fast as it could, no, _faster_.

"Haibara-chan!"

Ai ignored Ran's voice as she ran by her, already shoving Kudou's extra pair of glasses on. Her finger found the button to activate the tracking screen, and, almost immediately she could see the faint signal pulsing on the screen. Relief flooded her, made her skin tingle from head to toe until she realized she still had to _find_ him. He was still trapped.

Somewhere behind her she could hear Agasa calling her name, even as the old professor panted to a halt beside Ran.

The police tape they had put up was too high for her to even bother ducking under, and it was easy enough to evade the snatches the workers made at her. Ai didn't bother to think how insane it was that she was scrambling up over huge chunks of concrete, and how there was fire still smoldering here and there. Smoke wafted around her like vicious plumes being released from chimneys, or volcanic vents. It was certainly hot enough to feel like a volcano.

Panting raggedly she heaved herself over another hug block. Her knees and palms stung as they were scraped raw. Jagged bits of metal caught and tore at her cloths, and she could hear pursuit as well as the yells of panic as they tried to catch her. All of it faded away into the background, unimportant, _pointless_ noise.

Kudou had better live, because she was going to kill him herself after they'd dug him out.

The little dot was starting to flash more rapidly now. She was getting close. Then, to Ai's horror, it vanished completely. She sat, kneeling, on a piece of sharp stone, panting raggedly. The sound of her own blood rushing through her veins was loud in her ears.

_Please..._

It had to come back, she had to find him...

The dot came back, and Ai shoved forward just before a pair of hands could grab her. She slid down the slope of the concrete, the soles of her shoes scraping loudly, and hit another in a way that caused her to stumble forward. Reaching out, her hand caught on a rough bit of stone. The skin tore open and blood smeared on the dull gray surface.

It never seemed like it was going to end. Just a jungle of concrete block after stone block interspersed with shards of metal, glass, and wood. Then, the dot was blinking as quick as a bird's heart, and if she stepped either direction she found she was leaving it behind. She'd _found_ him. He was _there_, buried under tons of debris.

Arms grabbed her, pulling her away and Ai _screamed_,dignity be damned. "No! He's there! You have to get him out!"

The fireman holding her faltered. Then began to shush her like an upset child. "It's okay; we're going to rescue everyone we can. Where are your parents?"

"No! You don't understand!" Ai seethed. Whipping her head around, she glared fiercely into the man's startled face. "Look!"

Secrecy be damned too! Pulling the glasses off her face she shoved them onto his, heedless of helmet and equipment. The man blinked in dumbfounded confusion.

"Edogawa Conan's down there! He has a tracking device on him," Ai waved the badge she still clutched impatiently before his face. "You need to dig there! _Get him out!_"

And, for once, despite the ludicrous nature of her claims, an adult was smart enough to listen to a child.

Ai allowed herself to be passed back over the barrier into Mouri Ran's waiting arms, the glasses once more clutched in her hands. Agasa was looking at her in worried curiosity, but Ai simply shook her head and didn't argue when Ran carried her to a nearby ambulance while fussing over her scrapes, cuts, and bruises.

Ran set her down on the edge of the ambulance's open back end, beside a girl who clutched a blanket tightly around her shoulders, tears streaming silently down her face as she stared toward the pile of shattered debris. Without looking at her the teenage girl asked, "Someone you care about is in there too?"

Ai nodded silently.

"My father's in there. He went back in."

Turning her head Ai looked up at the girl and, after a moment, reached out to curl her childish fingers around the limp hand resting in the girl's lap. The girl's fingers closed around Ai's smaller hand and, together, they watched as the digging began with renewed effort where Ai had told them to look. Ran joined them shortly, sitting on Ai's other side while Sonoko, a second unknown girl, and Agasa stood close by.

All that was left was to wait, and hope.

–

A monster called worry was gibbering like a baboon on acid in the back of his mind. Kaito realized faintly that he'd finally lost whatever vestiges of his Kid induced calm that had remained. Poker Face was only hanging on by cracks and chips by this point too. Conan wasn't making any responses. Apparently his small body had given up the fight to retain consciousness in their oxygen deprived environment. Kaito had expected it to be him first, but... Oh, who was he kidding; he didn't have a clue, couldn't even think straight.

"Shin...ichhiii," he slurred, wishing he could shake the boy. "Wake... up."

Oh, gods above. He hurt all over! It felt like he was slowly being crushed to death, which he was, come to think of it. Kaito swallowed a hysterical snicker. None of that, now! They were going to make it out of this alive, and if he kept believing that then everything would be fine.

He swallowed several times, trying to stop the gray haze that was invading the blackness clogging his vision. It receded, trailing reluctant fingers that wanted nothing more than to wrap him up and never let go. If he lost consciousness now... It was a thought better left untouched in the immediate future.

Something was shifting and changing above him. He could _hear_ the trickle, scrape, and grind of moving stone as well as _feel_ it. It transferred right through the concrete pressing down on him and into his bones. Kaito ground his teeth, letting his head fall forward to rest alongside the Conan's. His nose scraped against rough stone, but it didn't really hurt in the face of everything else.

Kaito could admit that he was scared, so _very_ scared, and really, it wasn't for himself at all. He was more worried about the pint-sized detective at this point. What if Tantei-kun had had a concussion? It hadn't seemed like it, he'd been talking pretty well after all. Still, he was a _child_, at least in body, he was a lot more fragile that he was. Then there was the revelation to consider, but he could think of that when (if) they got out of here.

Though, in the short of things, Kaito really wasn't surprised. Tantei-kun had always been a little on the weird side. At least things made more sense now, and if he was honest with himself he was pleased. After all, he may very well come out of this with a new ally... if they lived.

With a gravelly hiss a cascade of rock slithered down nearby and Kaito wanted to scream, but he couldn't get enough air into his lungs nor expand them enough to do so. The pressure sitting on his spine shifted, changed, leaned more toward one side and the wall of solid rock on the other suddenly gave out and tumbled away. He couldn't _see_ it, but he certainly felt it. A pocket of air that made the spots creeping back into his vision clear away for the moment.

The blessing, he knew, was also a curse. Without the stability provided on both sides the rock pressing down on him was getting heavier. If he didn't do something, they were both going to be dead in a matter of moments. Mind spinning he didn't realize he was already acting for some seconds.

Lowering on one side he pressed the shoulder near the clear side up against the stone above him. The sound of rock grinding against rock nearly made him stop, but he couldn't, _wouldn't_ allow himself. Kaito knew he could do this, because he wouldn't allow himself to believe otherwise. The cloth of his sleeve scraped against the concrete as he continued to push up until the stone refused to budge. Another shower of dust and small rocks clattered around them.

For a several heart beats he remained still, and his muscles gave a painful spasm as he forced them to change positions after so long. His lower arm he dragged over until he could slide it beneath the small detective's back. Luckily, here, Conan's unconsciousness proved a boon as the boy was completely malleable. Pulling Conan as close to him as he could, Kaito took a deep breath, prayed, and used his mostly numb legs and free arm to shove himself to the side toward the clear space.

It only occurred to him as he did so that he had no idea what was over there, and as he rolled onto is back scrambling madly to get out from under the grinding press of collapsing stone, he hoped that there wasn't some sort of sheer drop. That's all they needed, but at least he'd cushion Tantei-kun's fall.

Lucky for the both of them the ground seemed to all be one chunk, and he made it out just in time, just before the large slab of concrete slid into the space they'd just been occupying, and trapped his cape with it. Panting raggedly Kaito squirmed, got his aching arm up, and quickly undid the knobs keep the cape in place. Once he was free he wriggled around, setting his back to a more stable feeling area of their new prison, and then set around rearranging Conan so he could sit more comfortably.

It was simple enough to heft the unmoving boy up, and slide his legs to rest either side of Kaito's hips, then let him rest against his chest. Sweat damp hair tickled his cheek, jawline, and chin, but Kaito paid it no heed. Drawing his knees up he leaned forward, one hand gripping Conan so the boy wouldn't flop about like a rag doll, and reached down. Tugging up his pant leg Kaito slid his fingers beneath the edge of his sock and pulled out the small cylindrical object he'd stored there. Sticking the object between his teeth he gripped Conan with his other hand, and repeated the process to get another from his other sock.

Holding them both in his hands, arms looped around the boy resting against him, he cracked them. A pale, eerie green light filled the small space revealing it to his gaze for the first time. Even that low light made his eyes sting after the absolute darkness of before.

Fumbling slightly Kaito set one of the glow sticks on a small ledge of rock before using one hand to settle Conan back against his raised knees. The way the boy's head sagged limply to the side made that gibbering worry start chattering in the dregs of his mind again. Kaito shushed it impatiently and reached out to gently cup the boy's chin. Tilting his head this way and that, he squinted in the low light. He used the second stick to shed more illumination on Conan as he checked for any obvious head injuries.

Once he was sure there was nothing there he went on, scanning the boy over for anything serious, but as far as he could tell there was nothing but some scrapes and bruises. A breath of relief puffed out from his lips, still...

Bringing his hand up he grasped the tip one of his glove's fingers between his teeth and tugged sharply to pull it off, while the other hand rested on Conan's shoulder to keep the boy stable. A quick flick of his head was used to toss it aside, then Kaito reached out and touched his fingers to the pulse point beneath the edge of the boy's jaw.

It was slightly fast, but that was probably due to lack of oxygen, but it wasn't thready.

Another grinding scrape came from somewhere above them, and more debris filtered down through the cracks and gaps in the rubble. It was louder, closer, than it had been before.

"That's either a good thing, or a bad thing, eh Tantei-kun?" Kaito murmured, just a bit deliriously. He was exhausted, and he hurt, and he really would like to pass out now too, but he couldn't. If they were to find them...

Kaito set the glow stick in his hand on the ledge beside its twin and reached down to unbutton his suit coat, fingers fumbling sluggishly. Once he had the suit jacket unbuttoned he pulled Conan toward him again, letting the boy drape against his chest as he shrugged the jacket off.

Next came the shoes, just toe them off, snag the back of the heels with his fingers... Reaching out a fumbling hand Kaito located the glove he'd discarded moments ago, then tugged off its companion. He stuffed them into one shoe, and quickly pulled his tie free. It went in the other shoe. That done, he bundled the lot up in his suit jacket, and shoved the bundle into a corner and prayed no one would notice it.

It was easy enough to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt to give it a more casual Kaito flare. His hands hesitated as he reached up to feel the smooth edges of his monocle. Truth be told, he didn't really want to get rid of it down here if he could avoid it. Kaito palmed it, then slid it into one of Conan's jacket pockets.

That was about all he could do. The rest was just to hoping they didn't _notice_ anything suspicious.

Kaito pulled Conan in closer as more strange structural groaning and shifting sounds rustled all around them, one arm wrapping around the boy's lower back while the other cupped the back of his head. He cradled Tantei-kun to himself, drawing his knees in more to make them as small as possible. Sweat and dirt matted hair prickled against his palm. Kaito leaned his head forward, forehead resting against a narrow shoulder.

They would make it. He was sure of it, because he wouldn't give up hope. He believed they could make it. Besides, he hadn't finished things yet. Kaito still had to find Pandora, and see Snake brought to justice for what he'd done to his father.

"You won't let us die, will you Oyaji?" he mumbled tiredly. "I've still got to complete your, my... _our_ task...And Tantei-kun..."

Tantei-kun obviously had something he had to finish too.

Seconds, minutes, hours, _days_... Kaito had no idea how long he sat there, clutching the unresisting boy and drifting in and out of awareness. His mind had shut down, blanked out, left him behind. All he knew was that the pallid light was starting to fade into a sticky gray-tinted green like the undersides of particularly vicious storm clouds.

The spots and haze was starting to creep into his vision again. Kaito shifted slightly, sliding his chin over Conan's shoulder to tuck the boy's head into the crook of his neck. His hand on Conan's head slid down, gripping around his neck for a brief moment before Kaito's fingers sought a pulse point. Still much too fast to be any good, and starting to get a little erratic.

"Hang on, Shinichi," he whispered, voice cracked and hoarse. "We're going to make it out of this. Promise."

Kaito couldn't help but wonder, groggily, if Tantei-kun would have laughed at him had he been awake. After all, what good was the promise of a thief? He grinned, because he could almost hear the dry sardonic tone asking that very question. His lips ached just like the rest of him. Kaito tried to wet them with a tongue that was sticky, and just as dry.

Something cool fluttered along the heated planes of his face, and it took far longer than it ought to have for Kaito to realize it was _cool air_. Peeling his gummy eyes open, he blinked in confusion at a thin ribbon of bright light streaming into the space.

Something in the structure moaned, and Kaito forced his mouth open to croak out, "We're down here!"

The sounds leaking in from above, muffled still, and disjointed, paused for a second before renewing with increased vigor. A voice called back, "Hang on! We're going to get you out of there. Are you alone?"

Exultation was rising from the pit of his stomach like a golden firework that burst in his lungs and hearts. "No. I've got..." he paused, swallowed, tried again. "I've got a kid with me. Edogawa Conan. Please, hurry...."

He could have sobbed with relief, but he was far too dehydrated for his body to waste precious liquid on tears, and far too exhausted to waste the energy. Above them, voices of men shouted back to one another in an effort to be as careful, but quick as possible. Dirt, bits of rock, and other debris slid down the walls and trickled through cracks, but that horrible pressing sensation seemed all but gone.

Rock scraped and a flood of light shown down on him making his pupils contract too fast for comfort. Kaito blinked up at it despite the ache that was finally forcing a few tears from his eyes. The air hit him, so cold after the heat under the rubble, that he started to shiver automatically. Dark figures stood stark against a glowing halo, and he stared at them, his mind felt numb and uncomprehending.

One of them crouched down on the rim of the hole they were in and asked, "Can you hand him up here to us?"

Kaito blinked laconically at that question. Could he manage to hand Tantei-kun to them? He was exhausted, ready to just fall over, and his limbs had gone from numb, to painful, to jelly, to numb again... "Yeah." He'd do it, because he was going to make sure Conan was safe if it was the last thing he did.Kaito shifted his arm down and slid it beneath Conan's legs, hoping gravity would keep the boy there. Using his other hand he levered himself up, stumbling as his brain failed to register the existence of his legs. Immediately his hand came forward to steady Conan, and he stepped forward. It was probably one of the oddest sensations he'd ever felt. Much stranger than walking with one numb leg. Kaito winced as feeling began to return in a cascade of prickling nerves.

He shifted Conan around again, then lifted the boy up. Biting back a hiss of pain as the muscles of his shoulder and back worked, Kaito would _bet_ that he was black and blue all over back there. He didn't have to wait long as one of the men above him reached down and scooped Conan from his outstretched hands, then cradled the boy to his own chest, legs dangling over one arm and head sagging to the side.

The magician hadn't even noticed two other men catching hold of his arms until he felt them starting to pull him up, and got enough cognizant thought to get a foot hold and help them. It hurt, like being pulled apart, even though they weren't tugging all that hard. His muscles were beyond spent, his forearms aching with a bruising that felt bone deep, as did his chest and back, and shoulders. As soon as one knee hit the rim he wavered and fell forward, arms immediately caught him around the stomach, and Kaito found himself hauled gently to his feet.

"Take it easy. We've got you," someone murmured soothingly. "Just stay with us a bit longer. Think you can do that?"

His arm was pulled up and around someone's neck, and another person gripped his bicep on the other side. It didn't seem as if they'd realized he was Kid, unless they were just being nice at the moment. Kaito dearly hoped he didn't wake up in a cell tomorrow.

"Yeah," Kaito breathed. The air was fresh and sharp with the cold, but it was one of the best things he'd ever tasted, even as tainted as it was with the smell of smoke and concrete dust.

As they lead him through the labyrinth of debris, and crested a rise of rubble, he could hear the remnants of the crowd cheering, screaming, and clapping for their saviors. Kaito let his head fall back, taking in the dark sky. The stars weren't really visible due to the city glow, but it was still the _sky_. A small, white speck drifted down slowly, swirling in a lazy curlicue pattern until it alighted on his nose. Cold, the snowflake quickly melted against the warmth of his skin.

His vision, it seemed, had finally adjusted, and now he could see the start of the first snow of the season drifting lazily down all around them in the unusually cold night. Kaito turned his head toward where he knew the man carrying Conan was, and blinked, slightly startled, to see hazy blue eyes peering back at him from beneath heavy eyelids. Kaito's lips quirked up in a slight smile, and he thought one might have answered him from the boy's face, but then Conan's eyes fluttered shut again.

Paramedics were waiting for them, and swept them up as soon as they stepped off the rubble. Kaito was see-sawing between consciousness and falling into the abyss yawning before him. He swayed like a hapless drunkard, stumbling the last step to be caught by one of the medics. He couldn't really remember being lead toward an ambulance, thought he might have heard his name, was sure he heard terrified calls of Tantei-kun's. By the time they got him to an ambulance he was sinking into darkness just as surely as Conan had, and he couldn't stop it from swallowing him whole. Truthfully, he didn't think he would have if he could.

Unconsciousness was blissfully devoid of the pain singing through his nerves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fic Pairings:** Mostly Genfic. Light Kaito/Aoko, Shinichi/Ran, Saguru/Aoko, and Heiji/Kazuha

**Final/Series Pairings: **Saguru/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Shinichi (more may appear)

**Warnings:** Crime, Violence, Character Death.

**Chapter Warnings:** Mentions of Character Death

* * *

**Chapter 03**

* * *

When he first came to, Conan thought, for a horrified second, that he was still trapped and something had happened because Kid, Kaito, wasn't there anymore. A heartbeat later and he could tell that the darkness of the room was different from the darkness they had been trapped in. It was not that absolute blackness, but instead a gloomy monochrome that was mostly pervaded by gray shades. It took only a second more recognize the trappings of a hospital room. Conan let his head roll to one side, and found himself facing another bed, a bed that was, at the moment, empty. The blankets on it were rumpled and mussed, the pillow still depressed from where a head had lain on it, and the case twisted. Whoever occupied that bed hadn't been gone long. There was a coolness in the air, bitter and nippy, that twisted away the last strands of lingering anxiety he hadn't even realized he felt. The place beneath the rubble had been warm, much too warm.

"It feels nice, doesn't it?"

Tilting his head back in the other direction Conan took in the person at the window. A hazy image swum before his mind's eye of sparse drifting snowflakes, and half blurry people. A teenage boy that looked much like he ought to, who wore a smile that hid a private secret in its corners.

"Kuroba Kaito."

From his vantage point he could see the smile that drew itself over Kuroba's face when he said the name, though he could only see part of it. Kuroba's head was angled away from him, where he lounged, one thigh resting on the open sill of the window, leg dangling, while the other leg was braced against the floor. He was focused on something he held outside as the cold air whispered in, smelling of the familiar city scents, cold, and damp concrete.

Conan lifted his hand, and stared at it in the pale light of the aloof November moon that hung in a distant sky beyond Kuroba, beyond the window. Slowly he curled his fingers inward into a fist before unfolding them again. "How long was I out?" His own sense of his circadian rhythm told him it had been long enough to make him feel off, but not long enough to constitute worry.

"Almost twenty-four hours," Kuroba said, voice soft and lilting in the quiet of the room. "They had you on a saline drip until a few hours ago, worried you would get dehydrated." That certainly explained the faint tenderness in the crook of his arm. "I'm supposed to let them know as soon as you wake up."

"Are you?"

Kuroba tilted his head slightly, giving a small chuckle in response to the question. Conan's eyes shifted over at the flicker of something sparkling to land on the gleaming jewel Kuroba held aloft like an offering to the moon.

"The Blue Elpis..."

"I figured you'd like some time to reorient yourself before they start pestering you." The thief turned then, and pulled his arm back into the room before spiriting the jewel away. Conan absently wondered how he'd kept them from finding it, how he'd kept his identity at all. Kuroba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the side of the window, head tilted so he could continue to see out of it. "It's a fake. They all were."

"You knew, didn't you? That the jewels were fake even before you..."

Kuroba pushed off the wall, and closed the distance between the window and Conan's bed where he sat down on the edge of it by the boy's legs. He didn't answer, but that was fine. They both knew the answer to that, though Conan couldn't fathom his motivation. Kuroba had never told him that.

The magician thief leaned forward, and reached toward Conan's face in a gesture that was obviously meant to capture his attention. Immediately Conan was on the alert for a trick. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the thief, but Kuroba's only response was to allow a toothy white grin to spread across his face. The shadows seemed to cling to him almost as if drawn there, and for some reason Conan couldn't drag his attention away. When Kuroba's grin turned cheeky, Conan realized he'd fallen right into his trap.

A gleam of dull light flashed off a reflective surface before his nose. Conan had a second to glance at the object Kuroba had produced before Kuroba palmed it. With a flick of his wrist that brought his hand palm up, Kuroba was balancing it on the tip of his middle finger. The lens of the monocle was far duller than usual, and the white slightly tarnished in a way that was obviously more than just the shadows of the room. The charm dangled loosely between Kuroba's fingers where it swayed ever so slightly on its white cord.

"They found this on you," Kuroba told him, lightly. "And, of course, then promptly seemed to forget all about it in the rush and mess." Almost cheerfully, the thief bounced the monocle into the air, catching it mid fall, and held it up before one eye.

Conan dropped his arm, which he'd still held aloft without thought, to rest across his stomach. His eyes flickered toward the window before sliding back to the face behind the monocle, and he deadpanned, "I'm sure you didn't help them with that at all, either." It didn't take the mind of a genius detective to know that Kuroba had made sure it vanished. Conan's mind was filled with an image of a baffled nurse trying to figure out where the infamous monocle had gone before she dismissed it as a figment of a shocked, stressed, and tired mind.

"So it looks like you get to keep it as a trophy for managing to get it away from Kaitou Kid."

Shooting the thief a questioning look he asked, "And why would Kid let me do that?"

"I don't think anyone is thinking about that sort of thing right now, not even Kaitou Kid," Kuroba deflected simply, though Conan knew that was a lie if he'd ever heard one. There was no way that Kuroba hadn't considered every implication of what he was doing. It was too dangerous for him not to. The question, in the end, was if Conan could figure out what he was up to.

He couldn't see any reason that he should keep it when Kuroba was right there, and perfectly capable of reclaiming it.

"Why?" Why take the risk? Conan was a detective, and Kuroba _knew_ that, and... Conan was sitting right there watching Kuroba get his finger prints all over Kaitou Kid's monocle less than a day after he'd confessed to being that very thief himself.

Kuroba toyed with the monocle absently, then rolled it around along the backs of his knuckles with a deft twist of his hand. His face was almost pensive in the darkness, a faint melancholy smile quirking his lips in a way that didn't suit his face at all when Conan compared it to the wild energy and manic grins he was used to from the mischievous thief. At last, Kuroba let out his breath in a rush, and speared Conan with an amused look that, oddly, made Conan feel like the little kid he was forced to pretend to be.

"As much as I'd love to let you continue to believe me to be the infallible pinnacle of my profession, not everyone is fooled completely."

Conan opened his mouth, brows furrowed in a frown as he tried to figure out what Kuroba meant, before it hit him. He closed his mouth again, and frowned at the thief before speaking, "You've been suspected of being Kid before, haven't you?"

Kuroba walked the monocle up his knuckles, and flipped it into the air before he rotated his hand and stuck his thumb up. The monocle landed on the tip of his thumb. The thief easily balanced the curved edge of his eye piece and winked at Conan, then said, "Sharp as ever." Conan must have betrayed something in his expression, because a silly grin spread across Kuroba's face. "What? You didn't think you were the only one who was on my case did you?"

He sent Kuroba a narrow eyed glare, and crossed his arms uncomfortably over his thin chest. "No, of course not."

A snicker came from the thief as he allowed his monocle to roll back down his hand and balance on his wrist. "Aw, don't pout," Kuroba teased lightly. "While you might be my greatest adversary to date, Kudou-kun, I have to say that you were still two steps behind dear Hakuba-kun." Conan's eyes narrowed further into a squinting glare, but before he could voice any protest or rejoinder Kuroba waved his hand airily. "It's no fault of your own, after all, Hakuba-kun and I go to the same school together when he's in the country. I've been his number one suspect since he started on the case. The Keibu suspected me for awhile as well, but I managed to get him off my back thanks to his wonderful daughter."

Conan widened his eyes in a show of affected amusement, then deadpanned, "I see. And now?"

Kuroba merely offered him an enigmatic smile, and asked, "What do you remember from down there?"

"I remember our entire conversation," Conan said, a bit sharply. "So if you were hoping I'd have forgotten you're out of luck."

Kuroba's smile flashed, white and amused, against the shadows that clouded his face. "No, I'm not worried about that."

Suspicions suddenly leaked into Conan's brain, slow at first then like lightning until he'd left the previous lethargy that he had been consumed by behind. What had he been _thinking_ when he'd spilled his most closely guarded secret? What, after all, did he know about Kid? That he was a thief, with an apparent nonviolence policy to a degree, and a bizarre tendency to return what he'd stolen? That wasn't very much, but, then, he'd trusted Haibara about that. Though, in her case, she'd come with prior knowledge.

Small, childish fingers clenched on his stomach, the slightly rough quality of the blanket covering him keeping his fingernails from digging into the flesh of his palm. "Why? Because you have leverage now?" he asked. Conan thought Kuroba almost looked stung by that comment. A half aware memory, like a nearly forgotten dream upon waking, tugged at his consciousness even as Kuroba went still, head tilted down.

Something about a promise...

A loose grip around his wrist made Conan look up again. He watching in confusion as Kuroba drew his hand back into the air, until Conan tensed his muscles enough to hold it aloft himself– the monocle rolled along Kuroba's other arm to his elbow.

"No... I just know you won't say anything because you understand." With a slight bounce of his arm, Kuroba sent the monocle into the air, ducked his head to the side, and caught it, balanced, on the bridge of his nose. The thief tipped his head to the side, dropping it expertly to his other shoulder, and rolled it down to where he gripped Conan's hand. Without any conscious thought, Conan felt his fingers grip the hard rim of the monocle, and his gaze dropped. He stared at his own child sized hand, small fingers wrapped around the eye piece. He could almost see the ghostly afterimage of his true self overlaying reality; could almost imagine his hand the same size as Kuroba's, and at the same time he could almost see a white gloved hand replacing Kuroba's as it loosely gripped his wrist. Abruptly he pulled his hand back, tucking it almost protectively against his stomach, fingers tightening around the monocle thoughtlessly. He turned his head away.

"You okay, Tantei-kun? You seem to be pretty down..."

Conan glanced back to stare into those surprisingly serious, patiently waiting, eyes, and opened his mouth to brush the concern off as he usually did with everyone else. Something stopped him this time and those blue eyes of his sharpened. For several long seconds he studied the true face of Kaitou Kid intently. If anyone would be able to understand the question that was plaguing him, it was Kuroba, and it wasn't like he'd already spilled the most damaging and damning of secrets to him anyway. Most others would probably think he was being melodramatic, or foolish but... but Kuroba probably wondered similar things, just in reverse. And, really, hadn't he just said what Conan was now thinking?

So, he asked, "Is it wrong of me to wish that Shinichi would just disappear sometimes?"

After all, it was Conan's place to seek truth, but, in the end, who could he turn to ask for the truth in return?

For a moment Kuroba's looked startled, then his face melted into a light, but understanding smile. There was a sadness, a darkness, in Kuroba's eyes that Conan only ever saw in the mirror. They both had two sides to them, sides that they sometimes wished never existed, but couldn't help but cling to all the same. For Conan, more and more, it was see-sawing wildly. He didn't really know who he was anymore, and that scared him more than a little bit.

"No more than it is for me to wish Kuroba Kaito didn't need to exist sometimes."

"But why?" Conan found himself musing aloud. "Kuroba Kaito is the one with friends, family... Why would you want him to disappear sometimes?"

"Why not? I can't give up my night job until I've reached my goal. I'm just like you with the possibility of hurting everyone I know because of the secret I hide. It just... It's just a little different."

As silence fell between them, Conan staring blankly at the ceiling, he realized with a little start that he was beginning to understand Kaitou Kid, and think of him as an _ally_. He wasn't just a rival or a puzzle anymore. He had a name, and a face that came with motives, sense, and reason to his strange rhyme. Conan dealt with criminals almost daily, he had heard every sob story there was to hear in about fifty different versions.

Kid, Kuroba Kaito, had said he was going this to find some gem (What was it? What was so important about it?), and because they had killed his father. Conan could sense it just as surely as he could feel this understanding that settled between them, knowledgeable and comfortable, that Kuroba's story was like his. That, in the end, they were both just after the same thing: Justice. Maybe this was just the point where their stories finally intertwined rather than running parallel.

Haibara would have called him a fool, Hattori probably would have called it instinct. As far as Conan was concerned, it just _was_. He'd known people from both sides of the line, deceptive evil people and deceptive good people. Personally, Conan figured he could handle himself. This, in the end, was Kid after all, and that was all that need be said about it.

That didn't mean he couldn't have his hand forced, or possibly have ulterior motives, or be coerced into revealing things... Still... Maybe it was the fact that Conan _wanted_ someone who could understand him, talk on the same level as him. Maybe that was blurring his perceptions, but for the moment he decided to toss his lot in with this crazy thief and hope that maybe, just maybe, there would actually be some forward progress. He was tired of being stuck in the same rut, and really...

The thing was that...

Well...

Thing was, he wasn't; he wasn't nervous about this, wasn't bothered at all. He felt nothing but collected calm. In fact, he felt a little excited, just a bit exhilarated. He _wanted_ this. No, maybe he _needed_ it. Needed to get out from under the weight of memories, and guilt, and lies for just a little while... Needed to know that someone was walking the same path he was; facing the same trials and trivialities as he. He needed, Conan knew, to _find out_ who he was again. He certainly wasn't the same Shinichi he'd been before he'd met Fate head on and lost.

"We're pathetic," he mumbled.

"We are, aren't we?" Kuroba breathed in reply. The thief leaned forward, over him slightly, and grinned mischievously. "At least we don't have to be pathetic alone anymore."

Conan snorted, amused in spite of himself, and shoved Kuroba away with a small hand on his forehead. "You're an idiot. What if I'd rather be alone?"

"Well, you're stuck with me until they decide we aren't going to fall all to pieces." Kuroba stood then, moving back toward the window which he leaned against, palms curling over the sill. His breath misted in the cold air, and Conan realized he could see his as well. He hadn't even noticed how cold it had gotten in the room. Kuroba tilted his head back, looking up at a sky that was quickly being obscured by clouds. The city's light pollution was captured and reflected by them giving the sky an eerily luminous quality. "There were a lot of people hurt and killed, you know. They're still digging, but everyone knows all they're looking for now is corpses."

"Any idea how many died?" Conan asked. He felt cold all over. They may have escaped death, been lucky, but not everyone had. He wondered what he'd done to escape dying by fortuitous circumstance. Technicalities and chance saved him again and again though he couldn't fathom why. What was the karmic equation that balanced to him always surviving?

"No. We haven't been allowed visitors yet. I just overheard a couple of the nurses talking about it after I woke up."

Conan sat up at last, blanket sliding off of his chest to pool in his lap. He rested his hands atop it, fingers smoothing over the smooth curves of Kid's monocle, and watched Kuroba thoughtfully. After a moment his gaze hardened and sharpened. "Did you hear anything about who might be behind this?"

The thief stepped back and shook his head, then pulled the window closed. "No, and there are far too many possibilities at present."

Heaving a sigh, Conan twisted around and grabbed his glasses from where they'd been placed on the side table. There appeared to be a scratch on one lens. It was a good thing he didn't really require them, but he put them on all the same. Hopefully no one would think much of it until he could get a spare set from Ran, or the professor.

There wasn't much they could do about the bombing, not right now, anyway. Maybe it was something that was best left to other authorities. That was rich coming from him, he knew, but while he'd been wrapped up in bombing cases before he'd never been in an investigation after the fact. He wasn't exactly sure he'd know where to begin on this one without more information anyway.

Conan was pretty sure it wouldn't leave him alone though. Not something this horrific. And, as Kuroba walked around the foot of his bed, he pretended not to notice the stiff way he moved, had been moving the entire time no matter what that little game of contact juggling had tried to hide.

Kuroba slid back onto his own bed, and pulled the blanket over his legs even as he hit the call button to alert the nurse on night watch. Tossing Conan a grin Kuroba lay back on the bed, hands tucked behind his head and murmured, "Ready to act like the sleepy little brat?"

Conan snorted contemptuously, even as he leaned over and casually hid the monocle in the metal supports and braces under the bed. He sat up, ignored the faintly mocking and amused grin on Kuroba's face, and let his eyes fall to half mast. By the time the woman stepped into the room he was pawing sleepily at his eyes beneath his glasses.

–

As weak winter sunlight fought to drag him from his sleep Kaito grumbled and ground his face into his pillow. Immediately he regretted it as the pillow was rather damp. He jerked his head up, he brought his hand up, and pawed at his face. He couldn't help grimacing at the feel of saliva crusting at the corner of his mouth. A quiet snicker drew his attention, and Kaito blinked blearily at the sight of Edogawa Conan sitting up in his bed, legs crossed beneath his blanket with his elbow propped on his knee and his chin in his hand. Apparently, the little brat had been watching him.

Conan sent Kaito a deadpan look and drolly said, "You know you drool in your sleep don't you?"

Grimacing again, and fighting down the urge to stick his tongue out at the boy (No need to act Conan's physical age. For now at least.), Kaito retorted with an equally bland, "I noticed."

As he propped himself up on his elbows Kaito brought his hands up, running them over the back of his head and making his wild hair stick up in even more directions. He bit back a yawn, and attempted to roll over only to find his lower body, from hips to toes, was wrapped up in his blanket like a mummy. It seemed that he had been shifting around quite a bit in his sleep. Admittedly Kaito was a fairly restless sleeper, even when he was sleeping he still had energy to spare, but this was nuts. He must have had a pretty rough dream. There was a lot of fuel for nightmares running around his head after all. Kaito could well imagine what he might have been dreaming about, even if he couldn't really remember.

He soon learned that wriggling and kicking his legs to get them free was a bad idea. The pain killers the doctors had been kind enough to hop him up on had worn out sometime during the night. Kaito gasped as pain flared all along his spine, shooting into his head and down his arms and legs in a way that made all his muscles lock up. His hands curling into fists automatically, and he grit his teeth. Slowly, he breathed in deep through his nose until the pain passed and allowed him to slump down against the pillow again.

Kaito smacked his head a few times against the pillow, which wasn't nearly as satisfying as a harder surface. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, then tossed his head to the side. Kaito very nearly shoved himself right off his bed when he came face to face with Conan. The boy was standing right beside his bed, crossed arms resting on it, and obviously standing up on his tip toes to do so. "Shit," Kaito gasped, heart thumping double time in his chest. "Make a little noise will you!"

Conan blinked at him, then let that deadpan look fall onto his face again. "That's rich coming from you. Anyway," the boy stepped back, turning and retreating to his own bed and climbing back up on it like a monkey. Kaito supposed that if you had to go through life that small you learned to cope, particularly when you had adult-like dignity behind you. "If you're good enough to complain, then you're fine."

It struck him, then, that the little detective had might have been _worried_ about him. It was so odd that he laughed. Despite the annoyed glare he was receiving Kaito continued to snicker, forehead resting against his pillow, as he watched the boy arrange his blankets around his legs with an air of aloof precision. Which, he decided, was probably one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. It was Hakuba in his weird Holmes get up funny.

He sagged further back into the mattress, shoved his arms under his pillow, and dropped his head back down on it with his head angled so he could gaze toward his temporary roommate. The silly smile that had taken over his face slowly melted off. Conan's gaze was distant, lingering on a point on the wall with such a serious look on that small, childish face, that it seemed surreal. Kaito couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about. That mind really seemed fathomless.

His own gaze drifted to the side to land on the world outside the window beyond the small detective. The bit of sunlight that had broken through mere minutes before was gone now, leaving the sky the color of worn dust clogged white fabric. He ignored the flash of memory; of white pants so dirty they were gray, of blue so dust covered it was more navy, of flashing lights and a fading world.

The sky was spitting drizzle. These were small droplets, the kind that could fall all day for days on end without giving up the game. Tiny things that spattered against the window innocuously and foretold of something more, something heavier that might come. Kaito smiled, lips curving upward just the faintest amount. A gust of wind caused several rain drops to spatter and break against the glass in an intricate pattern of water spots. The world beyond the window glowed a distilled yellow gray. It was a color that tasted like agony, the color of a bruise on flesh.

From beneath half lidded eyes, Kaito watched Conan with the critical eye of his profession. Even now, Conan sat with a posture that was far too stiff and self contained to be that of a child. The look on the small boy's face was serious and contemplative, his eyes distant. There was really no wonder that people failed to be surprised that Edogawa Conan was an _unusual_ little boy. The straight set of his small shoulders, the stiff hold of his back... all of it made Kaito want to poke, prod, and pester until he coaxed out all the amusing reactions he was sure were lying beneath that slightly smug, but somehow defeated little face. He was a lot like Hakuba in that manner, annoying but fun.

If nothing else, Kaito had always been bad at denying himself entertainment. "What do you want?" a slightly acerbic voice interrupted his musings on the most likely buttons to push. Kaito blinked lazily to show himself undisturbed by Conan's eerie ability to pick up the fact that he was being observed. It wasn't a new quality by far. What was annoying was that Conan hadn't bothered to look at him.

"Do you always spill your secrets so easily?" Kaito asked, aiming to needle at him. A part of him felt bad about it. After all, just a few hours ago he'd said he wasn't going to use those secrets against the kid. Then again, Kaito had never claimed that he wasn't petty and childish when he wanted to be. Aoko could attest to that quite happily.

Conan's head turned just enough that he could glare at Kaito from behind the scuff and scratched lenses of his oversized glasses. "Do you?" the boy shot back, clearly miffed.

"You started it," Kaito said trying hard to hide his glee with a petulant tone to his volley. Oh, he was receiving one of those flat '_you're such a child_' stares. He had to bite lightly at his sleeve to refrain from laughing like a giddy little boy. It was a little twisted and mean spirited, but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying it. It had almost the same flavor of soccer balls, moonlight, sirens, thrills, and chases; like the edge of a skyscraper, a white hot glare from a figure far too small to look that dangerous. Kaito hid his grin in the ruffled fabric of his clothing.

The little brat narrowed his eyes a little more, and Kaito wanted to laugh in the face of that look. Instead he lay silent to watch with a steady gaze, his eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. Then, Conan turned away and seemed eager to return to ignoring him. Kaito frowned, disgruntled, though he didn't let it show. He still wasn't willing to let anyone wiggle beneath his Poker Face like that if he could help it. That said, he wasn't unaware of the slight tickle of anger at the easy dismissal, though he was unsurprised of it. He'd been dismissed of any illusions he had that he was anything more than a brief flicker in the world of the Great Detective the first time he'd faced off against Kudou Shinichi at the Clock tower.

It was with both great annoyance and great smugness that he embraced that fact, because, while he was easily dismissed by him, Kaito also knew that he could easily draw him out to play again. He could still remember the thrill and resentment his first encounter with Kudou had brought, and equally the same feelings from his first encounter with Edogawa Conan, the cunning brat on the rooftop. Whatever they were to each other he couldn't say– rival, friend, and bitter annoyance wrapped all into one, maybe.

If Kaito hadn't been so studiously contemplating his current roommate, he might have missed the quiet boyish voice that muttered, "Maybe I just wanted to die as Kudou Shinichi."

Kaito blinked, let his eyes unfocused, and gave the rain spattered window a faintly guilty look. The guilt, though was more brought on by the fact that Kaito had expected a response along the lines of _'I was trying to draw you out'_, or _'Because I was bored_'. He'd unconsciously classed Kudou Shinichi along the same lines of expectancy as the ever suspicious Hakuba Saguru. To be fair to Hakuba, Kaito didn't think even he had that little tact. This, though... Kaito looked at the little figure where he sat on his bed, shoulders hunched. To want to be acknowledged as himself so bad that he could have a bit of peace before he was cremated and forever known as Edogawa Conan, the boy who didn't really exist, the boy who was a ghost of a young man who had once been full of promise... To want that so badly he'd seek it even from someone who wasn't really counted as a friend...

"Maybe," Kaito offered, a little wonderingly, "maybe we're not all that different, really."

Conan sent him a glance over his shoulder, but said nothing as he returned to what Kaito thought was probably a silent bout of sulking. It was almost as if revealing this secret was more horrible than the one he'd given up under the rubble, or the one about sacrifice and alter egos from last night.

While Kaito wouldn't lie and say that his decision to give Conan a little information had been the same, he could admit that it was _part_ of it. Just a little. Because, Kaito could understand. Just like Kudou Shinichi would die and forever be remembered as Edogawa Conan while Kudou Shinichi faded away, another missing person who had never returned, Kuroba Kaito would forever have been remembered as the boy who was Kaitou Kid. Eventually, his name would become hazy and unimportant except to those who wanted the underlying facts, and it would just be '_Hey, remember that bombing where Kaitou Kid was killed for good?'_.

So, it had been one part gentlemanly manners– Conan _had_ started it, and it was only polite. One part curiosity– What would Tantei-kun do with the information? Because, as much as Kaito had said he didn't think Conan would do anything with it because he understood, it was more that Kaito knew he _couldn't_ do anything with it. People had enough trouble believing Conan now, no good would come of such a ludicrous story and Conan _knew_ that. The other part? Well, maybe Kaito had wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroba Kaito too, rather than the nameless, faceless, cloaked shadow that was the illustrious phantom thief who was, to this day, still more his father than it was him.

Which brought him right back to thoughts he'd rather avoid right then. He didn't want to think about the problems outside these walls; about how there was someone out there willing to blow up a building for whatever reason and steal who knew how many lives. Kaito didn't steal lives, because he couldn't give them back. He couldn't fathom why anyone would take such a precious thing away. His hand clenched into a fist beneath his pillow where his nails dug into the palm of his hand. It was so quiet in their room, like the world had dropped away and the two of them were snugly secured in an island of peace. He used that quiet to help him focus, and, as he slowly breathed out, listened to the muffled sounds beyond the closed door of their room. Sounds which he noted seemed to be increasing just a bit.

"Tantei-kun?" he asked softly, voice barely carrying any substance. "Do you know what time it is?"

"A little after six in the morning," Conan chirped, obviously over his little fit of moroseness. Kaito chose, wisely perhaps, not to comment on it.

That was early. Kaito stifled a discontent sound in his pillow; it was easy to ignore the amused scoff that came from the boy. He really didn't want to be awake right now. Not when, now that he'd been made aware of it, his body was a single massive ache that he really wished would just go away. If he'd been home he would have just swallowed another couple of extra strength pain killers, have his mom tell Aoko he was ill, and stayed in bed for the entire day sleeping through the pain. That didn't sound like a bad idea. Now if he could just get some pain medication...

Just then the door opened, and sound from the beyond spilled in. A young nurse, no more than her mid twenties, wandered in carrying a tray of food which she bore over to Conan. The boy immediately plastered a smile on his face as he let the woman situate his food for him.

"There you go, Conan-kun!" the nurse said cheerfully, even as she absently brushed the boy's fringe back.

Conan beamed up at her. It made him look for all the world like the boy he masqueraded as. Then his features changed, as practiced as an actor's. "Hey, Neechan? Kaito-niisan woke up! Could you get him something for the pain? He seems to be hurting a lot..."

If he hadn't felt like someone was very intent on killing every muscle in his body Kaito might have sprung out of bed, bounced over, and hugged Conan until he squeaked right then, annoying little pain in his ass detective or not.

The nurse cast him a sympathetic glance and smiled easily. "Hold on a moment Kuroba-san, and I'll get you some medication."

"Thank you," he breathed gratefully. Once the door had clicked softly shut behind the woman, Kaito focused back on Conan. "You're an evil little child."

Conan tipped his head up, blinked at him with wide innocent eyes and chirped, "What do you mean, Kaito-niisan?" Kaito stared at him. Conan let the childish look fall away, a smirk adorning his features. "When you have to live as a kid, you use what is available to you."

"Conniving~!" he sang right back as Conan decided to ignore him and set to his food. Kaito used the moment to study the boy. He seemed to be moving freely enough. It seemed as if he'd escaped most injury just as he'd thought. Conan's chin was black and blue through and through, and looked like it might be a bit swollen. He winced slightly at that. How ironic that, through all they'd gone through, Conan's only real injury was from him.

It didn't take long for the nurse to come bustling back in with a small plastic cup rattling with his pills. Kaito was rather embarrassed with how hard it was to get himself to move. The woman helped him, a gentle hand under his elbow, as he twisted free of his clingy blanket and shifted around to sit upright on the bed. A glass of water, held in a slightly shaky hand, and the pills were gone in seconds. Now he just had to wait for them to kick in. Carefully he leaned back into his now propped up pillow, wincing slightly as he finally settled in and the steady ache escalated from the pressure. He really didn't want to know what his back looked like right now. Kaito could guess that it wasn't pretty.

Once the nurse had made sure he was situated, and asked him if he wanted anything to eat (He didn't but he knew he probably should anyway, so he asked for some light food.), she turned to Conan winked and said, "Is that better, Conan-kun?"

The boy immediately grinned and tossed one hand in the air with a cheerful hum of approval. With a laugh, the woman exited again.

Kaito couldn't help but find it rather fascinating how fast Tantei-kun had managed to get the woman wrapped around his little finger. "I'm impressed."

Conan snorted and muttered something around his spoon. Kaito thought it rather sounded like '_I can't help it if they find me adorable_'.

The grin wouldn't leave his face for ages.

By the time they'd eaten, and had their trays and dishes removed, Kaito was sitting in a happy bubble of, more or less, pain free haziness. Ah, the joy of pain killers. Conan had flopped back on his bed and appeared to be amusing himself by counting seconds or something. Kaito couldn't really tell what the boy was doing. He appeared to be merely laying there contemplating the ceiling, face completely devoid of any and all expression. For all Kaito knew the little detective could have been contemplating the pros and cons of the hospital food breakfast.

He was just going to open his mouth and ask if it was just that, when the door eased open a fraction and the nurse poked her head in. "I know it's early, but you have a visitor and he," here she glanced over her shoulder reproachfully, "is very insistent on seeing you."

The pair of them exchanged sidelong glances, then Kaito shrugged. "Let him in."

Kaito wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't to see _Hakuba Saguru_ of all people step through the door and pull it closed behind him. The detective had his head lowered, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in a manner that suggested he either had a headache or one was well on its way to forming, and his shoulders were sagging in a way that Kaito could never recall seeing before. When Hakuba finally looked up, paused near the foot of his bed, and shot a glance toward Conan, Kaito could easily see that his quasi-friend was _exhausted. _

The first words out of Kaito's mouth as Hakuba finally focused on him were, quite simply, "You look like hell." As an afterthought Kaito tacked on, "I thought you were still in England."

"You look like hell too," Hakuba assured him drily. "I caught the first plane back as soon as I heard about the explosion. I've been on my feet since." The detective paused, appeared to consider, then added, "I do believe that the blood in my veins has turned to caffeine by now."

Kaito made a mental note that sleep deprivation apparently made Hakuba's stunted sense of humor rear it's sadly malformed head, then pushed the notion aside. "Hakuba," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Sit down before you fall down." He somehow doubted Hakuba knew how unfocused he looked, or the fact that he was swaying slightly even as his hand absently flipped his pocket watch open and closed. The detective was obviously somewhere between buzzed on caffeine and falling asleep where he stood.

"I don't think I'll be able to get back up once I sit down."

All attempts at humor left Kaito's face and he pointed at the foot of his bed. "Sit. Now. Or I'll call the nice nurse lady back and have Conan-kun sweet talk her into sedating you." Out of the corner of his eye he could see Conan watching the two of them like they were a vaguely amusing circus sideshow. The brat.

For a moment it looked like Hakuba was going to continue fighting with him, but it passed to Kaito's surprise, and the detective let out a heavy sigh before stepping over and sitting tentatively at the foot of his bed. Hakuba remained stiff and wary for a moment before just shaking his head and letting his shoulders sag. His head tipped forward as he stared down at his hands with apparent interest. It didn't seem like Hakuba was going to say anything at all. Kaito sent a confused glance at Conan, who shrugged, eyes never leaving the other detective, so Kaito opened his mouth to ask why Hakuba was even there.

"You know," Hakuba said conversationally. Kaito snapped his mouth closed, teeth coming together with a click, "they found Kaitou Kid's top hat in the rubble."

"Okay...?" Kaito didn't have a clue where Hakuba was going with this unless he wanted to indulge in their usual song and dance of accusations and denials for some unfathomable reason. He personally didn't think now was the time for that, but he'd give Hakuba the benefit of hearing him out.

Hakuba nodded sharply. "Kid's fans are in a frenzy, apparently. They all either fear him to be deceased, whilst the rest of them firmly believe their hero could escape anything." Hakuba paused, facing twisting into an expression that looked caught somewhere between amused and exasperated before he said, "I've even heard a rumor that Kaitou Kid was never alive at all; had actually been killed and was, in fact, a real phantom looking for revenge, and that he was responsible for the explosion."

Kaito blinked, blinked again, and stared. Conan had his head tilted in a thoughtful way, though the boy looked like he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh or not. Kaito could understand why because that was rather close to the truth behind Kid, just a bit twisted. He sent bemused look at Conan he let an incredulous smile slide into place. The small detective returned the expression with a sardonic twist Kaito could only wish to pull off.

He flicked his gaze back to Hakuba who was watching him, but not really seeing him as he continued to fiddle with his pocket watch. And, damn if the little click-_snick _of it wasn't getting annoying. Kaito drawled, "That's... interesting. I'm sure Kid just disappeared somewhere. Maybe what they found was just a spare or something that he had stashed in the building."

"Hmm," Hakuba hummed nonchalantly. "Rumors about Kaitou Kid's involvement aside, as we all are aware of that thief's rather tame tendencies, I've also heard about how Kuroba Kaito is a hero for protecting, and saving the life of, Edogawa Conan."

Now, that really came out of nowhere. Kaito couldn't fathom what Hakuba was getting at with this line of conversation. At first glance it had seemed like nothing more than the usual back and forth where Hakuba accused him of being Kid with some fickle form of half-conceived proof that only stood up in Hakuba's version of the world, and Kaito parried with plausible deniability. He'd heard much the same as far as rumors were concerned. After all, he'd been told to his face that he was a 'hero' for helping out that poor boy who 'must have been so scared'. Kaito had laughed his head off at that– In his own mind, of course. Conan was no more a scared little boy than Kaito was a law abiding citizen.

Well, if Hakuba was here to poke holes in his story he had a perfectly plausible lie made up that he'd already been dropping hints toward: He'd been there to see the heist, decided to slip in to try and meet the thief he was such a big fan of, and ended up caught in the explosion. He had even made plans prior to the heist to meet up with Aoko afterward as it was, so she could just tell them as much. Kaito was a fan of having as many backup plans and possible alibis as possible. Extra escape hatches never went awry in his opinion. Yet there Hakuba was, looking at him with weary cinnamon colored eyes in a way that seemed to say 'Kuroba, I know there's some sort of brain behind that witless stare. Figure it out'. It was an awful lot like Hakuba was speaking a language very similar to Japanese, but things were all off kilter.

About to demand that the detective get to the point a childish voice piped up, "Wow! Hakuba-niisan you really know a lot of rumors!"

Hakuba blinked, started slightly in surprise, and turned to look at Conan. The two detectives locked gazes and seemed to consider reach other for several seconds before Hakuba let a faint smirk appear. There was an answering one on Conan's face a second later. Ah, so that was it. They were speaking Detective-ese. Kaito would have gotten it eventually, after Hakuba had fiddled around and pandered to Kaito's decidedly Not Detective brain a bit more. Hey, he couldn't help it if he wasn't all interested in truth, mystery, and a great big clue pie.

Detectives... Can't live with them, can't live without them because they're too damn amusing when they get all flustered or annoyed.

Hakuba leaned forward and loosely clasped his hands together between his knees. Kaito recognized the intent look on his face as the one Hakuba got when he was on the scent of a particularly good mystery; one that was intriguing, beguiling, and captured his entire attention. "That's true Edogawa-kun. I was at the police station, you see, and a lot of people come and go from there. There are inevitably a great deal of rumors floating around."

Conan bobbed his head in agreement. "Yeah! Sometimes my friends and I have to go to the police station with Satou-keiji, or Takagi-keiji! They sure do like to talk a lot don't they?"

Hakuba nodded solemnly. "A lot of things get lost in communication, I'm afraid. Not everyone is very clear. Why, I even heard a rumor about how Wakahisa was observed to be gloating over the fact that Kaitou Kid didn't get his jewels, and never will now. After which he was apparently called off on an urgent business trip out of the country leaving one of his business partners in charge of clean up."

"Ehhh?" the small detective chirped, eyes wide in apparent confusion. "Really? Didn't he have to go to the hospital too? I mean, he was in the building too. He was in the Black Room with me when Kid stole the jewel!"

It occurred to Kaito, with a sudden start, that the two of them were basically orchestrating the entire conversation with the intent of making it seem completely innocent. To anyone else it would seem as if Hakuba was simply discussing bits of gossip that he had picked up. It was even more innocent sounding because of Conan. After all, who would discuss anything meaningful with a little kid? Though, in reflection, he wasn't sure who was playing who more here.

What did Hakuba know? Did he suspect that Conan was more than just an extremely bright child? Or was he merely using him as a convenient way to drop information to Kaito? Kaito well knew that Conan himself was using this situation to get the information for, he suspected, the both of them. He didn't need to get Hakuba talking where Kaito could hear if he didn't want to and Kaito knew it. Kaito appreciated it, he really did, even if he wasn't sure quite yet to make of the information. He was a thief, not a detective. He didn't even know where to begin putting together the clues that Hakuba was apparently dropping, though he could tell that Wakahisa was apparently Hakuba's favorite suspect.

The motive, it seemed, was to keep him, Kid, from stealing the jewels. That bastard... Kaito's hand clenched into a fist beside his thigh with the blanket wadded between his fingers.

"From what I heard," Hakuba was saying, "Wakahisa was waiting in the lobby at the time of the first explosions. He later told an officer who interviewed him that he was waiting to hear from Nakamori-keibu on whether or not Kaitou Kid had been apprehended or, at the very least, his jewels retrieved."

"He's really lucky then, isn't he?" Conan said innocently, but when Kaito took in the expression on his face... That look was anything but innocent. In fact, it scared the part of Kaito that was all Kid just a little bit. A predatory hunting look that made his instincts for preservation of self jangle wildly. Thank god he would never warrant that kind of look. The worst he'd ever received was that mixture of smug knowing, and hungry challenge. Kaito could deal with those, but... He fought back a shiver at the idea of facing Kudou Shinichi when he _really_ wanted to take him down and tear him apart.

"Well, he is supposed to be extremely lucky. They say that his Lucky Seven collection is blessed by the gods themselves." Hakuba waved his hand as if to dismiss the very idea for as ludicrous as it sounded. Kaito couldn't blame him, but then, he was the one who dealt with supposedly magic jewels.

"Oooh... I guess they didn't work how he was hoping then, 'cause the curse of the other jewel still happened." Conan looked upward, pressing the pointer finger of one hand against his chin as he mused, "But isn't it odd? You'd think he would want his jewels back!"

Hakuba snorted derisively. "Apparently he doesn't care if he gets them back, so long as Kaitou Kid doesn't get them either."

It really was just like that, wasn't it? That bastard would blow up a building, kill who knows how many people, and injure others just to keep Kid from the jewels. How twisted was that? And the bastard had the gall to run away, too.

Kaito had half a mind to track the bastard down and make sure he paid for this, but was that really an option? Could he just take off and leave his mother, Jii, Aoko just because someone had the stupidity to turn one of his heists into a death trap? Was it worth the likelihood of his identity as Kid being revealed? Because, there really was no doubt that some people would make the connection. Kuroba Kaito going missing right after a disastrous Kid heist was just _too_ coincidental. He sighed softly. No, he couldn't just race off at the drop of a hat like that. An admittedly very painful hat, but– The time would come, he was sure, when he'd see Wakahisa again, whether the man liked it or not, and when that day came...

Conan made a confused sound, and shook his head in a way that made his fringe shift roughly. "He seemed to really like them though, and said they cost him an awful lot..."

"Millions, I'd expect, if not billions." Hakuba's expression twisted suddenly, turning pained and a bit sour. It was one of the oddest things Kaito ever seen on the detective's face. Then Hakuba's shoulders slumped a little more, spine curving as he sagged down tiredly, all the banter seemed to be gone out of him in a millisecond and an instinct, a gut feeling, spoke up in the back of Kaito's mind. Something was horribly wrong.

"That fool of a man... He got up in front of the press yesterday and made a public apology for the lives lost in the face of 'Some horrendous malcontent's evil doings'." That sour look intensified. Hakuba looked like he was thoroughly disgusted even thinking about Wakahisa and his apparent bravado. "Offered to personally make reparations to the families who lost loved ones in the explosion and ensuing collapse." He gave a derisive snort, and went on with an ironic, and oddly respectful tone of voice, "He very nearly had his head taken off by–" Just as quickly as the flow of words had begun, Hakuba clammed up.

Kaito frowned as the sense of dread, the eerie tickle of foreboding, increased one hundred fold. He could see it now, in the way Hakuba held himself, the way he perched on the edge of the bed like he was prepared to spring into flight at any second, yet still half curled in on himself as if defensive. He'd _never_ seen Hakuba act this way. What was more though, was that it looked like what weighed on the detective so apparently, so much more than jet lag and stress, looked like a deep seated emotional and mental exhaustion. It looked a lot like sadness, and Kaito didn't like that at all.

"Hakuba." Did his voice really sound as strained as he thought it did? "What happened?"

The detective folded his arms around his stomach, leaned forward, and refused to look at him. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, Kaito-kun." His given name? Since when did Hakuba call him by that? Something cold was settling into his chest, but Kaito ignored it willfully. "I.. But I was the only one who really could." Hakuba's hand lifted, smoothed over his face, and paused over his mouth for a moment as he collected himself.

Every second that ticked by made the coil of dread wind tighter in Kaito's stomach. The tenseness of the atmosphere was practically killing him as it pressed down, slipped down his throat, and tried to choke him. Kaito fought against it, mind frantically screaming that there was nothing wrong yet, it could just be something stupid. Hakuba was just being melodramatic! Maybe he'd really developed a sudden sense of humor and was going to suddenly tell him that, as Kaito was obviously Kid, he was now dead. Wouldn't that be a riot? Kid had died twice and could come back a third time!

Kaito could only imagine the look on that idiot's, Snake's, face.

"I'm sorry," Hakuba murmured finally. Slowly he lifted his head, looked right at Kaito and said, voice quiet as if it would soften the blow, "Nakamori-keibu he..."

Just like that, Kaito went cold. He barely heard Hakuba's next words.

"He went back in to try and get more of the task force, more of the others inside, out and... He was caught in the collapse, they found him already dead... I'm sorry, I really am."

Kaito's hands knotted in his blanket as he choked back a small whimper, and his mind screamed ragged denials. There was just no way! Nakamori-keibu was supposed to be a dogged, tough, loud, never _dying,_ bastard who chased Kid with all his determination no matter what. He _couldn't_ die! He wasn't, just _wasn't_, capable of something so mortal as death!

Which was silly, because Kaito _knew_... Kaito _knew_ that no one was like that. After all, hadn't his _own_ father died? His hands loosed from the fabric and flew up to grip his hair in tight handfuls that made his scalp burn. Kaito pulled his knees up, burying his face against them as he swallowed deep breaths and tried to keep from hyperventilating from the sudden influx of emotional agony. It hurt just like that day so long ago.

And, oh god, _Aoko_... She'd lost _both_ of her parents now.

He gasped, breath hiccupping on a sob. He barely noticed the tears that were sliding down his cheeks and nose, nor how they dampened the fabric of the blanket and made his skin feel wet and sticky, nor how mucus clogged his sinuses thickly and made it harder to breath, as if it weren't already hard enough.

There wouldn't be any more rants so full of creative cursing it would make the most hardened criminal blush. No more bellows about how Nakamori would be the _only_ one to ever catch Kid. No longer would he run into the man when he went over to visit Aoko, and be on the receiving end of gruff but friendly greetings, or glares. No more Nakamori-keibu period. It felt like a pillar holding up part of the world had crumbled away. Kaito had so few of those to begin with.

It barely even registered when the bed dipped beside him, and a hand came to rest on his shoulder, or when two smaller hands suddenly closed around his wrists in an attempt to get him to let go. He could hear Conan's voice as he murmured something Kaito couldn't hear past the rush of white noise in his head, but the sound shockingly serious despite the childish octave. He couldn't hear the words, but the cadence was soothing and he supposed it was just nonsense meant to calm him down and keep him from breaking with reality or something.

Kaito inhaled a shuddering gasp then asked, voice muffled against his legs, "How's Aoko?"

Hakuba's voice answered from above him, just as soft and calming as Conan's, "I didn't get to speak to her, she was sleeping, but she's staying at your home with your mother." That was good. His mom would take care of Aoko just fine. _He_ would be fine too, but...there was no way he was going to let that _bastard_ get away with this. Death would be too _kind, _not to mention Kaito refused to sink to his level. No, he deserved a fate worse than death that only Kid could devise.

"I'm..." No he wasn't fine. Kaito let Conan pull his hands down and lifted his head a bit. He blinked at the boy who crouched on the bed in front of his curled form. "I'll be fine. I really will." He would be fine, because he had to be. Kaito had learned a long time ago that he had to keep going, had to keep pressing forward. There was nothing else that could be done, even in the face of death. As he breathed in, slow and deep, he began to pick up the pieces of his abruptly discarded Poker Face, and glued them back together.

Sharp blue eyes watched him from behind the scratched lenses of oversized glasses, and Kaito watched him right back. If it disturbed Conan to see his tear stained face, with a few stray tears still rolling down his cheek, as it slowly formed back into a mask behind which the emotions were firmly sheltered, were as elusive as a thief in the night, it didn't show. Instead the not-child's knowing, _understanding_, gaze flickered slowly over his face, and jumped to look at every corner. Kaito felt like he could see every crack in him and was judging his repairs for flaws.

Whatever he saw seemed to please, or at least reassure, Conan for he nodded a moment later. "You will," the boy agreed, tone serious. Kaito fully understood the unsaid words there: _Because that's all we know how to do._

"We know you will, Kuroba-kun," Hakuba added softly, the hand on his shoulder squeezing gently. Drily he added, "You're nothing if not a survivor."

Those words made Kaito crack a smile, watery though it was, because they sounded almost like one of Hakuba's silly accusations. He hiccupped out a laugh, and gave one of his arms a tug. Conan looked at him for a moment longer, then gave his wrist a slight squeeze before releasing his hold on it, though he still held the other. Kaito didn't mind. He dashed his sleeve across his face, snuffled a bit, and used the heel of his palm to try and rub the wet from the dip between nose and eye. His eyes were sore, and his throat felt thick, but he would be fine. Grieving was natural, he'd been through it before, but it still hurt all the same.

Conan glanced between the both of them shrewdly. "I don't think either of you _look_ fine."

Kaito gave a strained laugh. "Out of the mouths of children," he muttered. Conan rolled his eyes at him, though he could see there was no acid in the gesture this time. "I think I'd like to sleep for awhile though..."

Hakuba levered himself up with a groan. "I'd like to seek my bed as well..." Kaito watched Hakuba give the door, and more importantly, the distance in between a rather dubious look as if he didn't think he'd be able to make it. With a glance at Conan, Kaito tilted his head toward the boy's bed and widened his eyes questioningly. Conan waved his hand at him in a 'do as you will' gesture.

"Hey, Hakuba? Look why don't you just catch a nap on the kid's bed?"

"I couldn't possibly..."

"Go ahead, Hakuba-niisan! You need it more than I do right now."

"See it's two against one. Go, sleep, we'll wake you up soon enough."

As if to illustrate the point Conan hopped off the bed, grabbed Hakuba's wrist and began tugging him around Kaito's bed toward the empty one. Hakuba was apparently too exhausted to put up a proper fight, and Conan killed whatever was left with a few simple words, "You won't do anyone any good by being about to fall over."

Hakuba clamped his mouth shut as he frowned at the child who was dragging him around. Despite whatever conjecture his mind was conjuring, he gratefully sank onto the bed, and let himself flop down on his side before rolling onto his back. The detective brought his hands up where he clamped them over his face. His fingers making his fringe stick up in every direction. One arm dropped back down to rest alongside his head, palm up, while the other draped over his eyes.

"Besides, if anyone dares to complain, Conan-kun can just sweet talk them." The boy in question sent Kaito a disgusted look for that, but it was true. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy had the entire staff of the ward charmed by sundown.

Kaito barely heard Hakuba's muffled and exhaustion slurred thank you, but it made him smile even as he shifted around and lay down on his side, one arm tucked beneath his pillow and head. Hakuba appeared to be out already. Kaito wasn't surprised, he had probably crashed hard.

As he watched Conan wander back toward him through heavy lidded eyes, Kaito decided he didn't like crying much. His eyes felt sticky, and his tongue gummy. Crying made him more tired than he remembered it doing before. Conan clambered up to sit on the foot of his bed, small legs dangling over the edge with his feet swinging slightly, and Kaito let his heavy eyes slip closed. Emotional exhaustion, and his still overtaxed body, didn't take long to pull him down into the sticky oblivion of a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** I both love and hate this chapter with an immense passion. Parts of it, mostly regarding Conan and Kaito, were lovingly ripped out, dissected, and remade several times out of sheer frustration. Hakuba and Conan's little code babble made up for it, though. As you'll learn in coming chapters I am quite fond of this sort of character interaction, and subtext.

As a close friend has pointed out many times: "With you _everything_ has meaning". I daresay she's right.

In response to a review on Chapter 2, I will say this: I research for my fics a great deal, but not nearly enough. If I researched everything until I was content and pleased with my knowledge I would never write at all, because I would not be content with my knowledge until I had real life experience and that's not about to happen with most things.

Anyway, I'm not keen on posting author's notes very much, as I'm well aware most people don't bother to read them. So, until next time. You'll be hearing from me sooner than you think.

- WHM Koorii


	4. Apocrypha 01

**Fic Pairings:** Mostly Genfic. Light Kaito/Aoko, Shinichi/Ran, Saguru/Aoko, and Heiji/Kazuha

**Final/Series Pairings: **Saguru/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Shinichi (more may appear)

**W****a****r****n****i****n****g****s****:** Crime, Violence, Character Death.

**Chapter Warnings:** Character Death, Blood/Gore

**A/N**: Okay, so, this isn't really a chapter, as such. It's time to introduce you all to Horsemen's "Apocrypha"

_**Apocypha –noun**_

1. ( initial capital letter) a group of 14 books, not considered canonical, included in the Septuagint and the Vulgate as part of the Old Testament, but usually omitted from Protestant editions of the Bible.

2. various religious writings of uncertain origin regarded by some as inspired, but rejected by most authorities.

writings, statements, etc., of doubtful authorship or authenticity. Compare canon1

Basically, the apocrypha are sidefics/missing scenes that don't really fit into the main narrative of the story, but which I still want to share. Many of them are mentioned in passing by the characters. I don't know how many there will be, I just sort of get ideas for them as I write the series. In any case, this is the first of them. For added effect listen to "September" by Daughtry. It's what I was listening to while writing this. ;]

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**Apocrypha 01**

**Last Rights**

* * *

Dying, Ginzo thought, was nothing like you expected it to be. He'd always been expecting his life to flash before his eyes or something cliché like that, but none of that was happening, or had happened. He'd been unconscious for awhile, which was far preferable to what he had woken up to. Searing pain arched through his body every time he so much as twitched, and it made breathing a little less than ideal so he tried to keep his every breath shallow. He'd never expected that he would die this way either, laying on his back, pinned there like a bug in some whacko's collection by a steel beam through his stomach. The memory of steel melding into his perforated abdomen was a sensation he doubted would ever leave him. Not that he had all that long to dwell on it.

He wondered what would kill him first: Blood loss or sepsis.

Distantly, as if his hearing were fogging over, he could hear the sound of rough cloth scraping against rougher stone; a sound that reminded him of the fact that some of his men were trapped down here with him. Ginzo didn't know the status of them and didn't want to ask, just hoped that they would make it out alright, because he knew he wouldn't. While his life wasn't flashing before his eyes, he could certainly feel it slipping away from him.

"Hold on, sir," he heard someone rasp nearby, the male voice was choked and thick. "Anyone got a flashlight?"

Ginzo was pretty sure his name was Takeuchi. With a force of will, he dredged up some of his waning strength and growled, "We don't need any light, just leave it and try not to move too much. I want a report on injuries. NOW!" The effort to talk, and more, the effort to dredge up one of his usual snarls left him weak, dizzy, gasping softly and, he noted with a sick feeling, wetly. His mouth tasted like copper and iron, which probably wasn't a good thing.

"I'm on it, sir!"

He didn't know if his men knew what his condition was, but he hoped they didn't. Right now he needed them to keep their heads together, and maybe that didn't sound like he had faith in them but it wasn't anything like that. He had more than enough faith in the entire task force. He'd chosen them each for a reason, but they all worked so god damned closely together that they were almost family. You had to be when you worked in Kid's task force– everyone knew it was _Kid's_ first, Nakamori's second, and never the police's. Funny how no one every argued about that.

"Everyone's still alive, Keibu, but I think Aoki hit his head."

"Good, good." Ginzo knew that there had been four others with him when the building came down around them. One of them had had a broken leg: they had found him trapped beneath a large chunk of rubble and needed to dig him out. He was pretty sure Takeuchi had severe burns from one of the explosions as well. "How much space do we have?" How much space did _they_ have. He wasn't going anywhere; might as well have asked 'How big is my grave?'

"Enough. I think something's holding the ceiling up, sir. We should be fine."

It occurred to him then, that it was probably the steel beam that was holding things steady, and the thing keeping the beam steady was his body. Nakamori Ginzo relaxed slightly, letting the rough contours of the broken floor beneath him take his weight completely, and felt a faint smile slide onto his face. At least his death wouldn't be completely useless, and he wasn't going to die alone. His only regret was that he was going to leave Aoko without a father.

Toichi's damn brat better look after his little girl or he'd find a way to make him regret it.

His life didn't flash before his eyes, no, but now he found himself looking back on it, pulling it up just so he could examine it even as he wondered if he'd told Aoko goodbye this morning before he left for work. He was pretty sure he had, because he'd boasted how tonight was the night he would _finally_ catch Kid. They had promised that they'd have a big meal together, all their favorites, to celebrate because he _was_ going to catch that thief tonight. Aoko had cheered him on, her eyes alight with confidence in him, her father, while he boasted even though they both knew that it was likely to be a futile effort. They did this every heist, and every heist they would have that celebratory dinner anyway, just because it was, somehow, a tradition now. He would tell Aoko all about what Kid had done that night, and Aoko would rant and rave, just as temperamental as he was, until they were both laughing at the silliness of it all.

She had promised that, tonight, she would be in the crowd to wait for him too. That way when he finally got Kid she would be there to see his triumph, she'd said.

His daughter had been there, just like she had promised, but she wasn't there for anything like triumph. She'd been screaming for him from the other side of the police barriers and riot squad. Ginzo couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his little girl looking so terrified. The fatherly instincts in him had wanted nothing more than to run to her and make sure she got out of there safe, to make her stop screaming. He hadn't though, because he had a duty to his men as well. Instead he had gone back into the building to get as many of them out as he could. Silently, Ginzo prayed that Aoko was alright. He didn't know if he could live with himself, or die with himself, if Aoko had gotten hurt in this mess.

All the thoughts of Aoko and his mortality made him think of the day she was born, of the first time he laid eyes on his daughter. Small, pink, and winkled, with a tuft of dark hair already fuzzing her head, she had been a noisy little thing: had had his temper right from the start and time hadn't changed that. He could remember when she was a little girl with her cheeks puffed out and her face flushed in aggravation, and, now, as she was becoming a fine young woman with fire in her eyes. The very thought of her made pride flare up in his chest, warm and lingering, even through the pain that was starting to go numb.

His whole body felt heavy, and Ginzo closed his eyes, or at least he thought he did. He wasn't sure if he'd ever had them open. The blackness was just so god damned thick. He was sweating and thought he should probably feel hot, but instead he just felt cold.

"Keibu? Are you okay?"

"Fine," Ginzo grunted. "Just thinking."

That's right, he was thinking: Thinking about everything he was leaving behind, and about everything he'd already lost. Like his wife. Aoko's beautiful mother, so many years gone but never forgotten. The day he'd learned she was dead had etched itself forever in his mind and would never leave. The memory of standing there with the phone to his ear, of hearing the doctor say he was sorry, but she was gone, the phone falling from his limp hand and Aoko's small voice asking 'Touchan, what's wrong?' as he sagged to the floor.

It hadn't been easy raising Aoko alone, knowing he could never fill the space his wife had left, but he'd tried to be there for her, to raise her right. She had done nothing but make him proud. Things had been even more difficult back then, with Kid taking so much of his time, even if he'd been like an escape from his grief, like a friend. A strange, annoying friend who did everything he could to tease and taunt the grief right out of him. Just like Toichi had.

And, maybe he just let Kid fool him, because Nakamori Ginzo wasn't so stupid as to have missed the connection. The day his friend had died, so had Kaitou Kid...until eight years later. He hoped Toichi would be able to forgive him for not keeping his son safe, but he'd tried to make sure Kaito was growing up right. Kuroba Nyoko was an amazing woman, and Ginzo well understood the pain and trials of raising a child on your own after the loss of your spouse. That kid had been such a good friend for Aoko, even if he was a bit of a brat and made her so god damned angry. He knew she adored him.

He had done what he could, but it looked like it was time for them to be on their own; time to leave things to the next generation because Ginzo knew he didn't have any time left. Death was pulling at him, relentless and draining. He couldn't feel pain anymore, just a numbness that had taken over his entire body. Actually, he was kind of grateful for that. It hurt like a bitch having something through your guts and if he didn't have to feel it, so much the better.

It took all he had to force his too heavy eyes open again at a stifled sound close by, and Ginzo found the small space was illuminated. He could make out the too close dark gray of the concrete rubble that formed the ceiling.

"K-keibu..."

Turning his head slightly, Ginzo looked at the starkly pale and sweaty faces of the four members of his task force, framed by the stiff black edges of their helmets. "Hey, Takeuchi? Tell Aoko to take care of herself, will you?" he slurred.

"Hang on, Keibu," the man hissed wretchedly. "They'll get here in time. Just keep fighting."

Ginzo snorted, an action that sent a ripple of agony from his shredded midsection through to the tips of his hair and the cuticles of his toenails. "Don't be an idiot," he grunted. "We all know I'm not getting out of this even if they find us now. What are they going to do? Sew me up like Frankenstein and hope my organs aren't just bits of mash?"

Scattered chuckles greeted his vicious words as well as a faintly nauseous moan from Aoki's direction. Ginzo couldn't help but wonder if it was from the gory image he'd just painted, or from the concussion the man probably had. Though his vision was swimming, darkness eating at the edges, Ginzo could still make out the wildly despairing expression on Takeuchi's face as the man shifted closer to him. Dark eyes stared down at him, helpless and frustrated. "Keibu?"

It took effort to even glare, but Ginzo summoned the expression to his face. "You'll tell Aoko?"

Takeuchi's lips peeled back in a snarl, as if he wanted to protest, and Ginzo could see blood staining his teeth, but all he said was, "Someone will."

Satisfied, Ginzo grunted. "Good. And tell those two brats to keep Kid on his toes." Damned thief, he better have made it out of this alive or Ginzo was going to make his afterlife absolutely unbearable. How dare he leave his daughter! The blunt nails of his numb fingers scraped against the blood damp concrete he lay on as they twitched with a want to curl into fists. He wasn't really a religious man, but he'd do it, just like he was going to find his wife and then Kid's predecessor and make good on his threats to catch him at last.

"Like they could do anything else," he heard another voice grumble from nearby, it sounded choked. Ginzo thought it might be Takamura. "Hey, Aoki, don't fall asleep, moron."

A weary stilted chuckle answered, followed by slow words, "S'rry, Taka-kun."

"You're such a kid still," the gruff Takamura grunted, though it was rather fond, like an uncle teasing a favorite nephew, or an older brother annoyed and amused by his younger siblings insistence on aggravating him.

Takamura was right. Hakuba and that Edogawa kid– Creepy, creepy little brat, but a good kid. Reminded him a lot of Kaito when he'd been younger, but with an appreciation for order that Kaito would never possess. Those two would keep Kid from getting sloppy whether Ginzo told them to or not. They'd probably have a heart attack from his message since he'd always been so opposed to them, but it was the thought that counted, right?

The sound of something being dragged against concrete alerted his fading consciousness to movement, and Ginzo blinked away the haziness. "Hey, Keibu...?" With a bit of effort he was able to identify the voice as Ito. The man had a trickle of blood sliding down from under his helmet somewhere, but he looked clear headed enough. "What about...?" His hesitancy was palpable, reflected in the faces of the other three, even concussed Aoki.

Ginzo licked the sweat off his upper lip, where he could feel the rough bristles of his mustache as he did so. They weren't completely unprepared for this, not after what they'd observed. The Kid Task Force wasn't made of blind fools. "Tell that damned thief," Ginzo croaked, alarmed at how hard it was to breathe. He didn't struggle though, but put the last of his life into his final words. If there was a God, or Gods, waiting to judge him then he would make sure his last words were worthy of being judged by. "Tell him to watch his back. We're right behind him."

Grim and solemn, those four members of his task force stared back at him. In their faces Ginzo could see the wordless reply: His message was received loud and clear.

Nakamori Ginzo might have been a fool, but he wasn't an idiot, and, as he died, he died knowing that the plans he'd made would be taken care of, that his daughter was in the best hands he could place her in, and that he'd done everything with his life he could hope for to that point. He might not have wanted to die staring at the cracked underside of a wedge of concrete as the sulfur yellow glow of a dim flashlight made the craggy edges dance like ghouls, but the low murmur of his wounded task force joking weakly as if he wasn't slowly fading away just feet from them made it okay. He might not have wanted to leave his little girl, or the boy he'd watched grow up with her, nor his job, but he'd accepted that he was going to have to, and he died with the innate knowledge that things were in the hands of those best capable of taking care of them.

He wasn't happy with his death, but he was... satisfied.

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**A/N: **I have one more Apocrypha to share in this gap between chapters 3 and 4 before I hit radio silence again, so you'll be seeing me once more in a weeks time. For more information on chapters and such you can look here: http:/ whm-koorii . livejournal . Com / 75466 . html (remove the spaces)

On another note, the lovely Mangaluva made a second amv trailer for this series. You can find links to both on my profile.

Sorry for all the Author's Notes this time.

- WHM Koorii


	5. Apocrypha 02

**Fic Pairings:** Mostly Genfic. Light Kaito/Aoko, Shinichi/Ran, Saguru/Aoko, and Heiji/Kazuha

**Final/Series Pairings: **Saguru/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Shinichi (more may appear)

**W****a****r****n****i****n****g****s****:** Crime, Violence, Character Death.

**Chapter Warnings:** Violence(?)

**A/N**: Running a little behind my usual schedule today. I blame it on the fact that I spent most of my weekend half comatose from Tylenol and days of constant pain, and am still recovering. Fun stuff, that.

Anyway, this Apocrypha's scene was mentioned in Chapter 3 by Hakuba. I hope you all enjoy it, as I'm not to sure how good it is. Aoko is a tricky character for me to write, still.

* * *

**Apocrypha 02**

**Valkyrie**

* * *

A few paces ahead of her, Aoko could see Hakuba's broad shoulders and his shock of light colored hair as he gently but firmly forced his way through the crowd. It made her think of a gallant knight clearing the way for some noble lady, or maybe a guard clearing the way for a celebrity. If she hadn't felt so brittle, so frail, it might have made her laugh. Instead, she was too scared that she would fall apart if she didn't cling so tightly to herself.

"Excuse me," Hakuba murmured again as he edged between a man and a woman.

Aoko stepped out after him, and paused at the sight that was revealed: Row after row of chairs in which an array of people were settling. Some were obviously reporters, while others looked as delicate as she felt. The chairs were all uniform: Stiff black plastic supported by silver metal piping. A few feet to her left, voices that hissed like steam and snakes whispered constantly. Aoko glanced over blindly, and narrowed her tear dry eyes at the sight of black, monstrous video cameras.

She shouldn't have been surprised to see them there, they _were_ ensconced in one of Nichuri TVs many rooms, but she still was. Her shoulders tensed, and it took every bit of iron will and control not to demand how they _dare_ treat this of all things like some sort of media circus! But, she knew, oh, she _knew_. Aoko wasn't a genius, not like Kaito or Hakuba, maybe not even like Keiko or Akako, but she was a bright enough girl, and she knew. They dared make this a media circus because that was just what That Man wanted.

Hakuba's hand touched her arm through the soft knit of her sweater, just below the crease of her elbow, then fluttered away again as soon as she turned her attention to him. Aoko was thankful for the comfort his presence provided, even as she ached for Kaito to be standing by her side. She wanted Kaito to toss his arm across her shoulders in absent friendliness; the way he'd done since she was a little girl, the way he always did when she was upset even if it was nothing more than a scraped knee. Then he'd flicker his hand in front of her face, like he was made of magic himself, and present her with a perfectly crafted paper flower– if it was a particularly good day, she'd get a real one.

"Nakamori-chan?" Hakuba asked, his voice soft. It hovered somewhere to the left of her ear, formal and gently intrusive. Aoko made a little sound in response, heard a faint breath that might have been a sigh, before Hakuba went on, "Why don't you sit down?"

Aoko nodded faintly, and stepped around to sit in the stiff plastic chair before her. She half turned, having expected him to follow her, to take a seat as well, but he wasn't there. She turned her head further until her torso half twisted to follow, and found that Hakuba had merely stepped up behind the chair she had taken. His hands seemed to reach for the back of her chair, then aborted the attempt and disappeared behind his back. Aoko looked up at his face, and found it as unreadable and impassive as always. For a moment, she envied him. Aoko knew she wore her heart on her sleeve, she always had. What must it be like, she wondered, to be able to hide everything and keep people from seeing what you didn't want to share? She frowned up at him, at the way his eyes stared straight ahead– What color were they, anyway? She'd never really noticed, and though part of her was lit with an almost childish curiosity, she didn't dare look. It would look silly if she were to kneel up on the chair she was perched on just to peek at his eyes.

Aoko was pretty sure Hakuba wouldn't have appreciated it anyway. Barring their first encounter, when he'd clasped her hand and seemed so strangely forward yet sweet, a bit like cotton candy, he'd always seemed so imperturbable and untouchable. He was just so _foreign_.

She turned back around and absently smoothed the material over her knees. Hakuba wasn't like Kaito, who was sweet and warm, and cold and distant by turns, like a kite, ironically. You could tether a kite to you, and sometimes you could direct it with a sharp tug, but it was at the mercy of the wind and you knew that at anytime a great gust of air could come and take it away from you, then it would be caught up in a tree. Aoko wasn't very good at climbing trees.

Maybe Hakuba was a bit like a carrier pigeon: He'd soar away, and you'd think you would never see him again, but eventually he'd come back even if it was just for a bit; would never forget the warm aerie he'd inhabited. A cotton candy pigeon, while Kaito was an ice cream kite. The metaphors were enough to claw a choked titter from her throat, and it was only then that Aoko noticed that her hands were shaking.

With determination, she blinked back tears that hedged the corners of her eyes and made them feel overfull. She wished that the soft, warm, comforting presence of Kaito's mother were here, along with the bright, living, radiance of her long time friend. Nothing seemed right in the world when he wasn't there, like she'd had something vital and supporting taken out from under her. She wished she had the courage to go see him, but she just _couldn't_ right now. He'd be home soon, and then... and then...

In the end, she just wished she wasn't here. She hadn't wanted to come, but at the same time she had felt obligated to. Aoko set her mouth into a mulish line, straightened her shoulders, and sat up a little straighter. From behind her, she could swear she caught an approving sound.

Around her people flowed in an unnervingly quiet mass. They settled into chairs like discarded linens, and draped themselves near the walls like broken dolls. She felt a kinship, but a distance from them. There was a difference between her and them, she thought, though she couldn't say what it was. It all whirled around her and through her until she felt like she was on a carousel.

"It seems that things are about to begin," a quiet, accented, voice murmured in her ear, so close that Aoko jerked.

The sour-sweet feeling of pain bloomed sharply along her head where she'd collide with Hakuba's, and she glanced up through her fingers and hair to watch as Hakuba touched his fingertips to the side of his face with a wince. "I'm is _so_ sorry, Hakuba-kun!" she squeaked, almost surprised at the sound of her own voice in the tenuous silence. She twisted around, reached up, and knocked his hand aside impatiently to touch where they had collided herself. "Are you okay?"

He tensed momentarily under the feather light touch of her fingertips, and she felt guilty. Had that hurt _that_ bad? Then he straightened, the line of his shoulders tight. "I am fine, Nakamori-chan. I was merely startled by your sudden movement," As he said it, Hakuba glanced down at her. There was something strange about his smile, though she couldn't really place it. She wished she were as good as Kaito at reading people, or at least Hakuba, right now. He always seemed to know what Hakuba was thinking, though he persisted in using his ability for the power of evil, or, at least, the power of driving poor Hakuba insane. "It seems that our... esteemed... host is taking the stage."

Aoko blinked. She shot a quick glance forward to confirm that, yes, Wakahisa Hajime was stepping onto the slender, low stage that had been set up, and making his way toward the little podium they'd arranged for him. Aoko puffed her cheeks out indignantly at the sight of him. She didn't even know why she disliked him so much. Maybe it was merely that she needed someone to blame, and, right now, he was so convenient to turn her ire on. Aoko would have felt ashamed if she weren't so angry.

Wakahisa was a man who couldn't be older than her father by much, if he was at all. His hair was thick and black, but with graying hues around his ears. He looked like nothing so much as a calm, poised, business man with unusual laugh lines marking his gracefully aging face. Wakahisa was a man who should have seemed kind, a man who should have invited agreeable feelings, but she saw none of that. In fact she was reminded of a time when her father had taken her to the beach, and, curious little girl she was, she had discovered such a pretty little creature in the tidal pools. It had looked so ethereal but so familiar, so pretty but so plain. Her father had nearly had a heart attack when he saw what she'd been observing with such fascination. It wasn't until later that she learned how deadly the blue-ringed octopus was when it was provoked into biting, how its venom was potent enough to kill multiple people with one bite. Wakahisa was definitely a blue-ringed octopus.

The microphone perched atop Wakahisa's flimsy podium whined shrilly for a split second, and through it she could hear a faint shift and rustle. Behind her, as though in echo, she heard the same sound. Aoko glanced up at Hakuba's face and found him to be wearing a disturbing, thin lipped expression. She didn't know what to make of the way he was looking at Wakahisa, and desperately wished, again, that she had Kaito's ability to read him. Kaito _always_ seemed to know what Hakuba was thinking. It was such a shame that they couldn't seem to be better friends...

"First and foremost I would like to apologize to all of you," Wakahisa's voice jolted her as if it were a physical thing. Aoko faced forward again, her fingers digging into her thighs until she could feel the pressure and bite of her fingernails through the fabric of her clothing. "If it were not for some horrible malcontent's evil doings you would not be here right now, and would, instead, be enjoying time with your loved ones. I can only take the blame onto myself in part for not foreseeing this possibility. Had I been more careful, paid more heed to what I thought was a petty grudge..."

As the man angled his head down, appeared to look at the surface of the podium, his hands tightening just so on the edges, Aoko felt something in her stomach twist. She could feel her gorge rising, stinging like acid reflux, and bile colored the back of her throat– she could taste it on her tongue. Aoko drew in a low hiccuping breath, held it, and counted slowly backwards.

"Those lost in this tragedy were heroes, or had the potential to be heroes; brave men who lived with honor they had earned by serving us."

Something cold settled over her for a moment. It made her scalp prickle as if she could feel every hair on her head.

"No words can comfort your grief, and I will not try. I cannot say I feel your grief, for that would make it seem as if I do not comprehend the enormity of this loss, and that would be false. Though nothing can be done for those who are gone, I put my faith in the authorities to take the person responsible into custody with due haste."

It seemed to her as if his voice was fading in and out, like it was playing over an old, battered radio. White noise roared in her ears.

"It is impossible for the pain from such a heinous act to ever truly be healed, but I fully intend to make sure those who have suffered do not continue to suffer unduly by making reparations if necessary. In the face of your losses, mone–"

Aoko didn't notice when Wakahisa's words cut off abruptly in surprised confusion as she stood up, nor did she notice as one of the studio's cameras turned ponderously to focus on her. She didn't even notice the sound of enraged frustration that clawed its way out of her throat, or the tears that furiously wet her anger flushed cheeks. Something in her churning stomach, taught as piano wire, had snapped. "_You_," she hissed, unable to articulate more. As usual the first blossoming of her temper left her incapable of speech. She gave it no more thought, merely lunged forward. Her weight and momentum was halted sharply as an arm snatched her around her waist.

She had no idea what angered her more, the fact that Wakahisa was obviously using this as a way to make himself look better to the public, or that he dared to think he could make them, her, feel better by giving them, her, money. What was he trying to prove? What was he trying to show by doing this so publicly? What did he have to hide?

Aoko gave another enraged sound, wordless and inarticulate.

"Nakamori-chan, _please_!" Hakuba yelped, voice close enough to her ear that his volume made her eardrum throb. Then, quieter, he added, "Please calm down, Nakamori-chan, you're making a scene."

"A scene?" she snarled. "I will make a _scene_ if I want to! You heard him, Hakuba-kun! _You heard him!_" She shoved at Hakuba's restraining arm with a hand that fumbled against the feel of his clothes. His grip, though, was solid and tight, restraining her without restraining her at all.

"Nakamori-chan, I know but–"

"Young lady," Wakahisa's voice cut across whatever it was that Hakuba attempted to tell her, the microphone before him whining again with an earsplitting note. "Please, sit back down. If you have something you'd like to discuss with me regarding recent events I will be happy to speak with you privately after–"

Aoko ignored the way the people sitting near her drew back, shrunk away, at the harsh sound that tore itself from her throat. If there was one thing that she and her father were known for it was their temper, and, like always, it was like having blinders drawn over them. She barely noticed Hakuba's pained wheeze as she shoved her elbow sharply into his stomach and forced him to release her, was hardly conscious of her automatic reaching for a weapon, something that Kaito had conditioned her to. Aoko paid no attention to the cold feel of the boom mic as she jerked it out of its owner's hands, heedless of the cords connecting it to the equipment, or the headset that went flying as it was yanked off the man's head. The sound of the microphone squealing never entered through the haze that clouded her mind, nor did the feel of her skirt fluttering around her calves as she swung the heavy piece of equipment at Wakahisa's head with enough force to knock him out.

He was simply lucky that he'd reacted like any human and jerked away, stumbled to the side, twisted to keep her in sight, and fell onto his rear. He was also lucky that the boom was far longer and weighed much differently than Aoko's preferred mop. The sound of his body thumping down on his little stage accompanied by startled screams from the audience brought her back to herself, panting with exertion, anger, and her white knuckled grip on her unwieldy weapon. She could see him as he scrambled backwards, his feet pushing against the floor and half concealed by his podium. With what remained of her anger wrought adrenaline, the strength left in her shaking arms, Aoko brought the boom slamming down against the podium, and was satisfied at the scream of technical equipment and flimsy breaking wood that overrode Wakahisa's warbled cries for security.

She wasn't exactly a _violent_ girl, but she was sure she could be forgiven this outburst. Aoko uncurled her fingers stiffly, and stalked forward until she stepped onto the little stage, and glared down at the prone, quivering man. She pointed a finger sharply at him, cheeks puffed out in annoyance, and her glare fierce as she loudly proclaimed, "I will accept nothing from you! You, who treat the loss of my father and his men's lives with such insult, and parade it for your own gain! I will not be a _victim_ for you to play kind and good hearted to! I do not want to be part of this, and my father wouldn't want to be part of this–this _stupidity_ either!" She whipped around, sent a scalding glare over the staring people, and paused on the sight of Hakuba in the center isle between two islands of shocked viewers still clutching his stomach with a wide eyed look on his face.

Aoko sent a final, scathing, look over her shoulder at Wakahisa then brushed resolutely passed the darkly dressed, and faintly nervous, security guards who were approaching her. As she stepped up beside Hakuba she heard his voice call her, albeit a bit more breathy than usual, "Nakamori-chan, are you..?"

She felt immediately bad for being so rude to him. "I'm leaving," she said weakly, followed by a faint sniffle. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him rub at his stomach, expression wry.

"Of course. I think we've worn out our welcome regardless." He offered her a flat, dry smile that would have made her laugh any other time, or maybe just in this situation if she hadn't felt so absolutely awful from both the circumstances and her own horrible outburst. She hoped that her father wouldn't have been ashamed of her just then. Instead, she offered him a tentative smile in return, and turned away secure in the knowledge that all was forgiven.

As she strode out of the room, the silence behind her like a great canyon that had yawned open out of pure shock, Aoko realized what the difference between her and the others was. They had let themselves be _victims_, they had weary acceptance, unlike herself. Aoko would not let herself be cowed, would not accept anything that horrible excuse for a man brought forward: Not money, not platitudes, not condolences. She would not let the slothful pull of grief whittle her down like it had the rest of these people.

The doors whispered closed behind them, and Aoko wandered a few more paces down the hall they'd emerged into. She paused and discovered all the interesting ways in which her shoes settled against the tiled floor. Hakuba stopped at her side, and, though she couldn't see his face, saw nothing but his faint, barely there shadow leaning close beside her own on the floor, she could almost taste his concern. Aoko wrapped her arms around herself, lips quivering as she whispered guiltily, "I shouldn't have done that."

Hakuba made a strange sound in his throat, and his shadow hesitated a moment before resting its hand on her shadow's shoulder. Warmth, seeped through her sweater where the real Hakuba's hand rested. "No," he murmured softly, then his voice became dry as if he were trying to make her smile through his strange, strange humor, "but at least Wakahisa won't be able to press any charges. He would be look upon badly for treating a distraught young girl so callously." She tried hard to summon a smile for him, but it fell away unfulfilled. Hakuba sighed, and squeezed her shoulder. "Come, I will escort you back to Kuroba-kun's home."

Aoko gave a grateful nod, and followed after Hakuba with her fingers digging into her upper arms. Right now, she merely wanted to go back to Kaito's home where she could cry in peace– for these people, for herself, and for her father.


End file.
